Darkest Introspect
by neo savvy
Summary: The gradual deterioration of an Arkham Asylum patient under the throes of the notorious Dr. Crane. In here, only the mind can grant you power.
1. Chapter 1

Let's trudge through the muck…

First of all I do not own anything affiliated with Batman Begins, I'm not profiting from this. My car insurance company can vouch for me. I do own Kyra, Demitri, Cathy, and Lesley. Please do not use any of my characters without my permission. So, tell me what you think, if you like it, great, it you hate it, tell me what could be improved. I implore constructive criticism. I don't expect any flames, I've read many reviews posted by readers and all of you seem to be very encouraging. This is much appreciated.

Secondly, I feel I should warn you; this is a somewhat slow story of the gradual breakdown of one Arkham patient. If you're expecting great action, there's not too much here, abuse yes, but no real action. I might possibly write a sequel. If you are offended by language, suggestive situations, abuse, attempted rape or anything of that nature, I encourage you to find a different story to read. If you're somewhat twisted like me, then by all means, climb on board.

This story is of AU, so if things don't correlate with the movie, I'm aware of that. This is fan fiction, remember? Please enjoy!

This is my first fan fiction story to actually be posted. Please don't obliterate me.

**Prologue**

'_So, you think you have insight?'_

Penetrative blue eyes behind feminine frames drill into me as I sit at the opposite side of the table. I am grateful for the distance. He sits in front of me, in his expensive suit protected underneath a flawless white smock. Slender but strong hands folded neatly in front of him on the table, his expression expecting. The energy in the room is overwhelming as he observes me. He's arrogant, and rightly so, I collect that he is an intelligent man as his reputation has so poignantly deemed him. _'I expect I'll get an unwelcome taste of that intellect.'_

Dr. Jonathan Crane is beautiful no doubt, a pleasant sight in this drab and dreary place of screams and incoherent verbal ejaculations. The air is thick with oppression and misery, weighting the walls, compressing the ceilings. But my doctor, he is beautiful, with his carved cheekbones and plush rose lips. It doesn't settle with me though, the devil himself is noted for his dark, unmistakable beauty, a luring device many are caught upon. Despite my doctor's apparent beauty, there's something twisted about him. The way those hauntingly predatory eyes scan mercilessly over me, send electric shivers up my spine. He's calculating, cold, and he's searching for something. But that's partly why I'm here isn't it? I'm under his care until he finds what it is he needs. This gives me a certain degree of power and subconsciously, I believe he knows this. But still I linger on one simple thought:

'_I owe him nothing.'_


	2. Chapter 2

"**Darkest Introspect"**

**Chapter 1:**

Dr. Jonathan Crane sets a black leather briefcase upon the table and with a whisking sound of paper, pulls out a folder. He opens and examines the contents, which are, undoubtedly about me. I'm freezing in the grey sweatpants and white muscle shirt the asylum had provided for me. I won't shiver as not to expose my discomfort, let alone any traces of vulnerability. They made me take out my earrings, including my recently pierced nose. _'You own me forty bucks.'_ I sigh and curl my legs under myself in the stiff metal chair. His gaze flicks upward momentarily, the deep shadows of his brows contrasting with the bright blue of his eyes. _'Don't worry Doc, I have a feeling I'm not going anywhere.'_ After the quick assessment that I wasn't going to create trouble his eyes dart back down to the papers. It's my turn to observe him as he's filling his mind with my background. In this moment he reminds me vaguely of a schoolboy doing his homework. The image makes me smile. He looks far too young to be a doctor, mid to late-twenties at best. I recently turned twenty, yet I feel so adolescent in his presence.

'_Damn you for that.'_

I take this opportunity for a glimpse around the room, my head stationary as not to draw any more unwanted attention to myself. It is inescapably bleak. The floors are a dingy white while the walls are a few shades lighter than the typical green-blue of a nurse's smock. The table is entirely metal as are the cold chairs. I glance down at my black nail polish, French manicured with a sparkly pink. A last reminder of the freedom and individuality I once had. I look back up and he is staring at me. It's so hard for me to meet those too crisp blue eyes but I force my polar opposites to greet his in undermined defiance. I'm not weak but I am definitely on his territory.

"Miss Kyra Rhys, I understand you're having suicidal impulses as well as clinical depression." His voice is smooth and thick with the statement.

'_As labeled on the papers before you,'_

I fold my arms over my chest, "Seems to be a recent development."

His eyes darkened, twinkling not with humor. _'Awe, they didn't teach you humor at the academy?'_

"What would give you these thoughts?" He's sitting up even straighter now.

'_You're going to need a booster seat bud.'_

"There's been a lot of death…"

'_The thought of staying here…'_

"And does death scare you?" His voice heightened slightly as if he had struck something profound and exhilarating.

I take a moment on this one. My green eyes scale the reflective surface of the table.

"No."

He begins to write on a clipboard that I hadn't noticed before.

'_Take notes like a good boy, test will be Wednesday.'_

"What does scare you Miss Rhys?"

I fold my arms over my chest. _ 'You plan on getting anywhere with this?'_

"Driving a stick."

"Your current situation is a serious one, so I expect a serious response." He's getting pushy now.

'_Bet you're not afraid of a stick…'_

"Losing the ones I love."

He continues writing as I strain my eyes to get a peek at what he's writing. He notices this and props the clipboard onto his propped up knee.

'_Smooth.'_

"What are you afraid of Dr. Crane?"

'_While we're on the subject'_

"I believe I'm in position of asking the questions, as you are expected to answer accordingly."

I raise an eyebrow.

'_Obviously superior'_

"When was the last time something frightened you? What was it? And what was your initial reaction to it?"

"Why are you so interested in my fears Dr. Crane?" _'Couldn't resist'_

He shows no sign of weathering at my unwillingness to respond.

"I believe that suicidal impulses are evoked by fear by understanding that fear could lead to a potential means to control thoughts and actions that are not conducive to your good health as well as mental and emotional state." He responds coolly.

'_Spoken like a true shrink but what's the real reason?'_

"I presume N/A wouldn't be an appropriate response to the latter then?" I lean back, the beginnings of annoyance.

He sits and stares unyielding at me for a good moment. The dancing of his blue eyes warns he's becoming increasingly aggravated. _'Good, let down your guard, I dare you.'_ I decide to throw a curve.

"A spider found its way into my room and onto my wall. It appeared to be a common house spider. I captured it in a jar and took it outside and released it. It was a moment of true strength but I managed to overcome my fear, freeing it as well as the little arachnid from my home and from my mind."

'_Can ya dig it?'_

"You have arachnophobia?" It was more of a direct insinuation than a question. He began writing. _'I'll be polite and wait until he's finished before I answer.'_ After a few moments his pen ceased its tapping.

"No." I stated blatantly. I held an unreadable expression but I could feel my eyes shimmer in silent mockery.

Dr. Crane stares at me for a good minute. He looks down and draws a loud line over the previously written sentences. He looks up, his glare assaulting me. If his expression could kill then I would have been murdered. Instinctively I shrink back.

"You think it's funny to play games with me." His voice was hostile and controlled but only barely.

'_Again with the insinuating…'_

"Do you not understand that as your doctor it is my duty as well as obligation to asses your current emotional state so I can accurately diagnose and treat you?"

'_You stun me with your eloquence,'_

"I'm sorry; I thought the report was right in front of you."

'_I'm through talking today'_

He takes off his glasses and leans across the table towards me. "You listen to me; as long as you are here you are to do as I say. No exceptions, no deviations, I can make it very uncomfortable for you here. I suggest you do not play mind games with me, you are way out of your league."

I'm taken aback by his sudden virulence. He's a slightly man with an intimidating presence and ill demeanor. I'm quite afraid of what he's capable of. I can tell he's going to make me answer at least one more question.

'_Damn I hate conformity'_

"Fine," I spit it at him.

He puts his specs back on.

'_I think they make you look girly'_

"Do I scare you?" The look it his eyes is challenging yet he exudes cool contentedness with the sudden shift of my compliance.

"I think you want me to fear you."

'_But not in those glasses'_

"You didn't answer my question."

'_Yes, I'm aware of that.'_

"Yes, I'm aware of that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2:**

I was returned to my cell almost immediately after the evaluation with Dr. Crane. He must be busy interrogating his many other hapless patients. Just fine with me, I was tired of being mentally poked and prodded at like a newly discovered species.

The big burly orderly practically hurled me into my cell. Crane must have informed him of my lack of compliance. After regaining my balance, I glance around my cell, gaze falling upon my cot. The sheets are neatly made and the pillow fluffed. I didn't remember having made my bed nor fluffing my pillow. Then it struck me as comical, of all the things they could do to make me more comfortable here at Arkham, they fluff my pillow. The thought is so ridiculous that I begin to chuckle, it progresses into a normal laugh, then mutates into a full out belly roar. It was a new sound to my ears. Teary eyed I slide into a sitting position on the slick floor.

'_What am I going to do?'_

The next morning I awake to the sound of screams, sharp, piercing screams. I groan as I wipe my eyes and adjust my tank appropriately, which had become twisted during the night, signs of another fit full sleep. I get up and approach the small pane of Plexiglas upon my door. From an adjacent cell, a patient is yelling and clawing at his face while two orderlies try futilely to restrain his flailing limbs. But to no avail, the man was slashing deep lacerations upon his withered face. His eyes are wide terrified, staring beyond the two orderlies. I stretch my head to get a glimpse of what this man is so afraid of. Then my lovely Dr. Crane comes into view, arms placed behind his back, barking calm orders at his two men.

"Sc…Scarecrow!" The patient screams as he lunges for the doctor but is abruptly halted by the two orderlies, the ones that see to me.

Smoothly, deftly, Crane produces a syringe from his white coat pocket. "I'm afraid you are suffering from delusions, I have to sedate you now." Crane plunges the needle into the man's neck. The patient slowly lowers his arms and becomes quiet. Gradually, he begins falling lax in the orderlies' arms.

"Take him to room 219 for therapy." Crane states flatly as he recaps the exposed needle. Something is wild in his animalistic, hungry eyes. He turns toward my direction, catching my eyes with his own. I gasp and back away from the door.

"I would like another meeting with Miss Rhys, retrieve her at 1:00 p.m. and escort her to my office."

"Yes Dr. Crane."

I listen to the sound of the body be dragged away as a sickening dread crawls upon me in sly encroachment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3:**

For the second time in one week I am sitting across from Dr. Crane. Only this time it is in his office, a more intimate environment. Crane sits behind his expensive, polished black desk; I'm sitting in a black leather chair accented by small silver buttons. The walls are a deeper greenish blue than the rest of the asylum. There are plaques hung on every wall in unabashed glorification of my doctor's accomplishments. Behind me are bookshelves that take up the entire expanse of the wall, littered and stuffed with books undoubtedly on psychology. The office didn't quite fit the rest of the bleak asylum. For what it lacked in flair, it made up for in immaculacy. The only even remotely tasteful pieces in the office were the very expensive desk and the two chairs, which I'm sure, had made quite a dent in his wallet.

'_Wealthy guy, I bet you drive a Lexus.'_

Dr. Crane again sat with folders in front of him. He was studying me again, probably how odd I contrast against the expensive leather chair.

'_I didn't ask to be here.'_

"I trust you slept well?" His voice was completely detached and devoid of any form of actual care or concern.

'_How lovely of you'_

"As well as can be expected in an _asylum_," I tuck my legs under myself, just to see him squint at the sight of my feet upon the conditioned leather.

"May I ask you something Doctor Crane?"

"Since, you asked so politely, certainly."

"Do I get a phone call?"

"No." He remained untouched by my distress.

"Do I get any privileges?"

"Not anytime soon. I must see some progress first. And right now, you will hardly answer my questions."

'_So you have me pigeon holed, nice.'_

"Are you going to cooperate with me Miss Rhys or do I have to press upon you my more unfriendly albeit unconventional methods of persuasion?"

'_I'm sure you'll do it anyway.'_

"That won't be necessary."

"Good. Let's move on then." Crane opens a notebook, pen at hand and ready to succumb to his whim.

He pauses. "Let's take a different approach. This is your first week. I'm not going to use this." He then closes and tosses the folder away and focuses solely on me. Again, it hits me how young my doctor actually is. I wonder how well he keeps up with the senior doctors in his field then I'm reminded by the many shining plaques. Obviously he has no trouble.

"I think we'll get to know each other, so you will feel more comfortable around me." He offered me a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes, nor warm his skin. _'Nothing's going to make me comfortable around you, so save it.' _I don't return his smile.

"What do you have in mind, Slick?" It was out of my mouth before I even had a chance to stop it. Crane pauses and attacks me with his gaze. He ignores my remark and after a few controlled blinks, he continues.

'_Apparently none of those plaques will say, Mr. Congeniality.'_

"Tell me about yourself Kyra."

'_Great, there goes to formality mode, I busted it.'_

"I'm twenty; five foot three, hundred and twenty pounds." I complete my statement as if that was my entire story, fin. Crane sits quietly; his posture perfect, eyes gleaming, and then urges me onward with a couple short throaty sounds.

'_The throaty version of 'chop chop' no doubt.'_

"I was working on an English major until I landed into your charming facility. My parents are divorced…

'_I'd add that onto the compilation of my probable insanity.'_

"I have an older brother but he doesn't live here. I haven't seen him in five years…" I stop; I'm giving entirely too much information.

Crane takes notes vigorously.

"Were the two of you close?"

"I suppose."

"Was it the divorce that drew you two apart?"

"More than likely,"

'_Ooh, you're good'_

"Do you feel partly responsible?"

I scratch the side of my cheek out of aggravation rather than contemplation, the pink tips of the polish gone.

"No." It came out short.

'_Why the fuck should I?'_

He seems irritated by my short responses.

"You don't feel like you may have contributed?"

'_Nice attempt at delivering me a complex. Whose side are you on?'_

"Why should I?"

"You tell me."

"I believe…" I start, noticing how Crane attentiveness immediately pricked up.

"I'm tired of answering your questions today." I lean back rather indignantly.

"I believe…" Crane mocks as he leans in towards me.

"You are in no position to make that choice."

"That's were you're wrong Dr. Crane. I have rights and I don't have to tell you anything."

'_I'm not going to move, you can't touch me.'_

I was wrong, he moved. Deftly he sits up from his chair, the rich leather groaning angrily at his sudden departure. He stands right over me, then swoops down to match me eye level.

"You do not speak to me in such a manner. Not in _my facility!_ In here you have no rights. And as far as cooperation goes, you are to respect and obey me, so long as you are here, you are under my authority. But if you are still hesitant to oblige, I'd be more than happy to take a different approach to achieving cooperation. Methods I'm sure you'd be most displeased of." His eyes were fierce, pinning me to my seat, then he grins.

"But they have been proven most effective." Crane's eyes are so shiny they appear to wink at me.

'_I think you need to fuck off.'_

"Get out of my face."

'_Courage, where did you come from?'_

"Excuse me?"

"I said…get out of my face Dr. Crane, you're making me uncomfortable. Oh and for future reference, I can speak to you in whatever manner I deem necessary…_that is_ _my_ _privilege_. So stick that in your little notebook." My heart might burst through my chest.

'_That would be quite a distraction, now wouldn't it?'_

"Alright, starting tomorrow, therapy gets rough." Suddenly Crane gathers my chin in his hand; his face mere inches from my own. My shoulders quiver in resistance but he forces me closer.

'_My god, you have a grip!'_

"Rest up." He breathes into my face, squeezing harder, producing from me a small yelp.

"If you can," Crane lets me go so violently I cradle my jaw, opening my mouth, flexing the joint as if he had just struck me.

He rises and hovers above me. I feel like leaping from my chair and rushing for the door but Crane's domineering posture suppressing me downward. Towering over me like a cruel master might his recently kicked dog, daring me to move. Something in my mind clicks. _'Oh, you're one of those.'_ Involuntarily I click my tongue with those three little sounds of disgrace.

'_Little man's syndrome, so who's your doctor?'_

"You're shaming me?" His voice sounds closer. Apparently he had heard my tongue clicking.

'_Hadn't meant to do that'_

Finally I look up at him, my gaze meeting his. "Like the little boy that you are."

With startling speed he lashes out and backhands me. It is a hard, unrestrained smack which sent the side of my face stinging, rendering me into a silent reverie of realization…

'_I am so screwed.'_

"I'm through being nice Kyra. This is what happens when you push the envelope with me."

'_You're not allowed to do this! You're crazy!'_

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that what I just did was unethical and illegal; I'm probably insane and abusive to my clients. But here's the reality, you're resisting treatment, which _is_ illegal. And I, as your doctor, am therefore obligated to ensure that you receive adequate treatment, regardless whether or not I have your consent. So, I am here to help you Kyra, by any means necessary." Crane finishes with the last sentence sounding less than convincing.

Instinctively I bolt for the door, pushing hard past Crane, my fingers just curling around the handle. Strong hands grab my arms and pull me away from my only way out. "Let me go!" I scream as I whip around to return a strike. But he catches my fist and steers me into the wall. I hear the nearby plaques shudder upon my back's impact with the solid surface.

'_Ouch, that hurt!'_

"What did you think you were going to do, Kyra? Presuming I had let you run from my office, where were you going to run to? Surely, you not so naïve as to think I don't have guards posted by the doors. Do you know why I have my asylum guarded by _armed _men?" He presses harder into me as if his body pressure would accentuate the severity of his words. In all actuality, it numbed them.

"…because as far as they're concerned, every patient in here is crazy. That goes for you Kyra, you have been declared legally insane. You're stuck here until I say you are mentally healthy enough to leave. And as far as _I'm_ concerned, that's going to be a very long time, if at all." He nods his head to the side as he spoke the last three words, as if it pleased him.

Crane stabilizes me with his weight and one sure arm against my throat. I squirm to break free but his lean weight is crushing, his hip bone acutely digging into my waist.

'_You seem like you've done this before?'_

"You seem upset; you've had a long day, let me help you relax." He was reaching for something. A sharp pain in my arm confirms my suspicion. I cry out not from pain but from the severity of the situation but he silences me immediately with his hand. "Shh…it's not time to scream yet, save your energy." Crane's voice drones as his image drifts stealthily away, like a shifting shadow. The room is a churning kaleidoscope. His grip switches from feeling hard and possessive to that of a soft blanket wrapping gently around me.

'_Bastard sedated me!'_

"…no..." I manage as I feel my consciousness slip silently away. Crane holds my slack head in both his hands. I try so hard to focus. "I'm afraid so." His strong voice corrects me assertively, the last thing I hear before darkness enveloped me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4:**

I awake to find myself lying on a cold floor. Frightened I sit up. Looking around I notice this isn't my cell. This one is smaller, my cot gone, the private latrine gone, replaced by a crude open one. The walls are stained and wrought by rain in long black scars. The floor is dusty and rough, like concrete. The door is a harsh unpainted iron, flecked by grime and clots of rust. The observation window held no modern Plexiglas, there are bars. And I can hear screams. They are much louder than from my first cell.

'_Am I in a new wing?'_

Shaking I stand; jaw set firmly but nerves twitching as I step to the small window high upon the door. The hallway looks far more dingy and neglected than my previous location. The floors look wet, their dampness accentuated by the occasional flickering of fluorescent bulbs, loitered upon by moths and other insects. And in that cell across from me, a voice is humming…an unsettling tune followed by a cackling and ripping of fabric.

"No way," As I back away, something brushes against my ankle. I scream and jump against the door; the metal making a loud, low hollow sound. A rat skitters across the floor to find it's doorway in one of the far sides of the room.

"No fucking way."

'_At this rate, perhaps I'll end up in the streets…a fair compromise' _

The large door clanks and whines as it's opened. Two very large orderlies approach me. I back up in response to their advance. One is holding a large tray, littered with small plastic cups, pills, and water.

"Take your pills, Dr. Crane's orders." He holds up the cocktail of pills.

I continue to back away. "No thank you."

Cocking his head to the side he closes in on me like a grizzly, "I said, take your fucking pills!"

I bite my lip in protest.

"Mark, shut the door."

A loud hollow, resonating boom fills the cell.

'_Holy mother fucking shit…'_

"Last chance, the easy or hard way?"

'_Neither.'_

"Okay." My breath is short as I hold out my hand.

He rewards me with a hard open hand slap to the face; it reminds me of Crane's only with more bite and less venom. I fly back first into the wall, stunned I slide to the floor. The orderly crouches down beside me. "Are we gunna do this again?"

"No." I barely manage.

He shoves the pills in front of me. I'm gasping for breath but he grabs me by the neck and forces the pills down my throat. Then came the water, I try to time it but my lungs begged for air first, before I knew it I was gurgling and sputtering. He then struck me for the second time.

"Swallow the pills bitch!" He clamps his had over my mouth and yanks my head back. Heaving and sobbing I manage to down the pills without drowning. He gives me one last shove against the wall and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Trembling I scoot myself into the vacant far corner of the room. Warm tears race wild rivulets down the curves of my cheeks as I fight violently, hacking and heaving to catch my breath.

My night is filled with screams and moans of anguish. My cell is completely dark but I can tell it is night by the fluorescent lights in the hallway, there are more insects collaborating than usual. I lie down in my now deemed 'resting corner' and close my eyes. A dull gnawing in my stomach reminds that they had neglected to serve me dinner. I hiss as I press the side of my sore face against the back of my hands. Sighing in frustration I shift onto my back and will myself to sleep.

A darkness moves across my closed eyes. Gasping I sit upright, suddenly aware that I'm not alone in my cell. I hear a small scuffle near my door, the sound of a shoe scraping ever so softly against the rough floor. Quickly I rub my eyes and huddle defensively into my corner, turning the side of my face, forcing my eyes to focus.

"Who's there?" My voice is faltering.

Nothing

"What do you want?"

'_I took my pills…'_

I feel a shadow move in front of me. My breathing increases as I cautiously arise from my sitting position. Slowly, quietly I step away from my corner, aiming for the nearest side of the wall. My only source of light is small slivers of diluted haze that spilt into a square from the window and onto the floor. I try to get around it as not to make my movements known, but to also get a lighted view as to what or who had made that shuffle.

"Going somewhere?" Rasps a hoarse disembodied voice as invisible hands grasp my wrists and flings me against the wall. Crying out I position my arms defensively in front of me. They were immediately shoved to my sides.

"Your screams; I want your pain, to taste your fear…" The shadow rasps into my ear, rough material scratching against my skin. Involuntarily I began to whimper.

'_What the hell is this?'_

A hand encircles my throat as I try to push away from him. Light from the window emanates a glow of haloed light around the figure's head; due to the close proximity all I could see was a sack, a rough burlap canvas.

"This isn't real…just a nightmare…strong pills…" I shudder from a wave of shock and disbelief, my skin crawling.

"No, Scarecrow. I am very real."

"Scarecrow?" I repeat questioningly.

Suddenly, in response he flips me over, plastering my chest against the cold wall. He forces my hands behind me then clasps them together in one hand. He then kicks my legs apart. _'Do something Kyra!' _A wave of disbelief and panic surged through me with electrifying force. A hand travels down my side.

"Let's hear a scream shall we?" The voice is close, breathing into the back of my neck, making the fine hairs stand on end.

'_Alright, you asked for it…'_

My mind leaps into survival mode; I fling my head backward, crashing solidly with the figure's forehead. I hear him cry out in surprise. Turning around I witness the scarecrow clutching his head. I dart around him and run for the door; surely he wouldn't lock himself in here…

I hear a deep, infuriated growl as I reach for the handle. Immediately I'm shoved into the nearest corner by my hair. Screaming and flailing I lash out at him with my fingernails. He catches my wrist and twists it backward as he stabilizes me into the corner.

"That was very stupid." He tightens his grip so that I nearly drop to my knees.

'_You're the one with a sack on your head!'_

"Who are you?" I ask my voice pained and weak.

"I've told you, Scarecrow."

"No. _Who_ are you?" I gasp at my near breaking wrist. "Not what."

He releases my wrist and yanks me upward by the front of my shirt into his 'face' pressing into me with his hipbone. He says nothing as the pressure from his body weight grinds into me. My mind snaps into relapse and then realization.

'_Dr. Crane.'_

"Oh my God…"My voice is but a waft.

'_Is this part of the treatment plan?'_

"God has nothing to do with it." His voice is low, raspy and expertly guised.

"So, is this part of the treatment plan?" I stretch my face closer to his in defiance, my eyes burning into the deep depths of the eyeholes. I know there's blue beyond that dark abyss. I lick my lips. "…Dr. Crane."

He laughs a terribly dark vibration of madness and superiority, I notice the white of his knuckles as he clutches onto the front of my shirt. The bones in my spine ice over, blood chills, joints lock at the evil reverberation that fills the room with heavy dread.

My thoughts meld into an alloy of fear, dread, despair…anger. Suddenly as if my hands are possessed by some other being. I reach for the mask and rip it off of the doctor's face, thrusting it hard across the floor. Mouth closed, jaw clenched, I suck at the front of my teeth in animosity.

"Coward!" I spit out the words as if the thought of them disgusted me.

My insolence rewards me a hefty slap to the face, so hard it rocks the side of my head into the wall. I bite my bottom lip to stifle an oncoming yelp. My face was going to be an onslaught of bruises. Crane jerks me sharply towards him, his icy gaze piercing into me. A small prick in my arm goes unnoticed as he leans into me. His breath warm against the side of my neck, sending my skin crawling from the cold of the wall.

"I still want that scream…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

"You can't have it!" I scream as I thrash wildly, nails digging into nothing but air. My eyes open suddenly; my skin is damp, cold. My heart is racing, chest heaving as I scoot quickly against the wall, trying to recollect what had just happened.

'_Had I been dreaming?'_

There were no signs of Dr. Crane or any indications that he had been in my room. Yet my body felt like one gigantic bruise from his previous abuse. My shoulder stung and my back ached. It pained me to even touch my face. Possibly the only evidence of what had happened last night with Crane. What were meetings going to be like now that our, 'doctor/patient relationship' had been exacerbated to, 'victim/sadist?' What other types of, 'therapy' would ensue? I slowly get up from my spot on the floor, wincing from the pain and limp to the small window on my door. _'No bugs on the lights, morning.' _Footsteps echo gently down the hall. I step a few paces away from the door. Knowing all too well to whom those footsteps belonged to. They grow gradually louder, though still relatively quiet. I hold my breath.

My door clanks then opens, Dr. Crane steps in, smitten in his expensive suit, pristine smock, and coordinating tie, crystalline eyes behind modern-chic, metro sexual specs slice into me. My blood begins to boil; I suck gently at the side of my lip, contemplating on rushing him. His expression is smug as two orderlies flank either side of him.

'_Never mind'_

I snicker audibly.

'_Bet you need the back up.'_

His eyes shine as if back lit. "Miss Rhys, I see you're up. I trust you slept well?" His tone is sly, he knew all too well. I take an ungainly step toward him; the orderlies lurch forward, as if zombies. I ignore them and keep my steady pace forward until I am mere inches from Crane. The doctor signals calmly for them to halt. They do. I lift my head and gaze into his eyes; I'm a good six inches shorter than him. He stares at me, genuinely intrigued, radiating a vibe of curiosity and predominance.

'_Fuck that.'_

I rise onto the balls of my feet, lifting myself about three inches. I lean close, so that he can feel my breath. I lick my lips and lean towards his ear, "I'm not afraid of you."

I linger there a moment longer then lower myself and set my weight flat on my feet. I take only one step back, as to get a full view of his expression.

His face is unreadable. But his eyes shout volumes at me. He's curious, elated, challenged, and determined. Those hungry eyes are enthralled; they're sinister and malevolent, yet they stay professional. Immediately I regret my assertiveness. He takes a quick step towards me, leans down and repeats my previous gesture, breathing into my ear. "Time will change that." He straightens and smiles subtly at me, the sides of his lush lips curling slightly in wicked retribution.

"Demitri, bring a straightjacket." Crane's voice was low and commanding. He never took his eye off me. "Mark, you wait here."

'_Whoops look what I did…'_

I meet his gaze defiantly. "Oh hell Demitri, bring two." I take a deliberate breath, my heart starting to race. Dr. Crane takes in a sharp breath. "Bring a sedative as well." He then exhales inaudibly.

Demitri nodded as he exited, leaving me with Crane and the other orderly. I didn't stand a chance.

"I bet you have to bind and drug your patients…" I whisper, too terrified to raise my voice.

Crane raises an eyebrow, something I noticed he did when annoyed. "I choose to Kyra, it's less…problematic."

'_Because you're a pantywaist' _

"Oh I understand." My voice is still low.

The room is filled with awkward silence as I stare at my feet, awaiting my uninhibited fate. I can feel Crane's glare upon me, as if I'm some fascinating specimen, and to him I probably am. Minutes pass yet it feels as though I've been engulfed in that deadly silence for hours. Demitri returns carrying a grungy straightjacket, straps hanging like dead appendages. I didn't see a syringe but had no doubt that it was there.

Instinctively I back away, shaking my head slightly. Were they serious? Crane seemed to delight in my displeasure as the two orderlies gradually step towards me, Demitri with the straightjacket in tow. Dr. Crane stood fast by the door, lest I try to escape. Despite his small stature, his confidence and posture made him seem inescapably impassible.

"No." I state, backing away quickly, my back finding the wall.

'_Let's negotiate…'_

I wait just as Demitri closed in on me; I dodge to the right, pushing past Mark yet his strong hand grabs me by the shoulder but I pivot around, landing a good one into his groin. Immediately he falls to his knees, cursing me. My legs are suddenly swept out from under me as large hands clutch my waist. I thrash and scream in futile resistance. I knew once that rough canvas was placed over my head escape would be impossible and I would be rendered completely helpless. A blow to my stomach knocks me prone to the floor. The orderly pins my legs down with his knees, slipping the jacket over my head.

"NO!" I scream, kicking wildly.

Forcefully he shoves my arms into the long slits of fabric. I try unavailingly to scoot away from him. In a swift whipping motion he crosses my arms in front of me. I lash out with my only other available weapon, my teeth. I manage to dent the right side of his face, his skin almost at breaking point. A hard slap to my face knocks my head back, jarring my teeth. I feel the straps tighten as my arms are pinned low onto my aching stomach.

"Bitch!" Demitri hisses as he rams the two remaining straps between my legs. I jump at the sudden contact. I look up at Crane suddenly, his eyes the most active I've seen them, and yet dead all the same. I focus back on Demitri.

"Asshole!" I screamed back at him, while shooting Crane a menacing glare. He looks so calm, serene by the situation, and strangely gratified. I've never felt so disgusted by an individual. By this time the other orderly had recovered from the groin shot.

'_Shame you missed out on all the fun.'_

He stands up, slightly hunched over. "You want us to use that sedative?" He directs the question at Dr. Crane.

"Not yet."

Demitri tightens the last straps, making me whimper.

'_Not comfortable!'_

He picks me up by the front straps of the jacket and holds me up off the ground, then flings me into the wall. My back slams into the hard surface and the air from my lungs flees. I spilt the floor, lungs heaving to catch that fleeing air. Demitri glares at me, he doesn't look finished. Dr. Crane clears his throat and steps forward.

"Demitri, Mark, that will be all thank you."

"Do you need one of us here Dr…?"

"I hardly would have suggested otherwise, would I? Crane's tone is sharp, indignant.

"Yes sir." Demitri gives me a final, 'we'll finish this later' look and he and Marcus exit quietly. I sit on the floor, leaning against the wall, sore, bleeding, humiliated, and utterly defeated. Crane looks as though it was the most elating thing he's ever seen.

'_Sick bastard…'_

He approaches me, kneeling down eye level. I look up, eyes teary, face bruised and warm. I bite my lower lip. I must look pathetic.

"I warned you…" He gently lifts up my chin with the tips of his fingers. "…therapy will be rough." He breathes quickly, as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"What are you going to do to me?" I ask slowly, breathlessly, wincing at the combination of pain and his gentle pressure under my jaw.

"Do you remember what you said to me earlier Kyra?"

'_Uh…before or after I got slammed around?'_

My mind clicks back to when I had hidden my fear from Crane. When I had said I wasn't afraid of him. I was brave then. A sick feeling of dread slithered its way inside me, turning my skin cold.

"Yes."

"I'm going to show you why you should be."

Dr. Crane places his hand on my knee, opening his mouth to continue.

'_As if I need to hear anything else'_

Immediately I kick out at him, catching him off guard. The quick blow is insignificant but it had managed to sit him down. I lower my head, breathing in short breaths, and strangely enough, I am smiling. _'If my arms were free…'_ Crane stands up as quickly as he had been knocked down. He straightens his tousled jacket and readjusts his glasses. The look he gave me forces my eye contact to break. I hear him take in a controlled breath and suddenly all the air was crushed out of my lungs. I double over just as I see him set his foot down; it was a noteworthy kick to the stomach.

"We'll see how brash you are when we meet for our next session…" He pauses and stares at me for a moment longer. Finally I hear my door shut soundly in conclusion to his leave. I lean the back of my head against the wall, wondering what was going to become of me.


	7. Chapter 7

**I sincerely apologize for taking so long to update. If I'm feeling extra indulgent I may add another chapter before the day is over. I've been utterly exhausted from finals on top of just getting myself out of a destructive relationship. Needless to say, I've been creatively at a loss. But now my creative energy is back and I'm raring to go. I could be happier with this chapter. I just wanted to get something out there. **

**I would like to thank: Royalty09, MsBrooklyn, FalconHorror, and emptyvoices for all the lovely reviews and helpful advice. I appreciate it beyond words. You all have made this a pleasant and painless experience and I cannot express my gratitude. **

**I love you all for it!**

**Alright, here's the nest installment. Please enjoy!**

**Chapter 6**

It has been close to two weeks and I've had no real food. Once a day I'd been given a small piece of bread and a cup of water, enough to keep me alive. The notion that Crane wanted to weaken me was clearly visible. Apparently he wanted to humiliate me as well, for the straightjacket hasn't been removed once. The two burly orderlies keep me inebriated with sedatives. I lie curled in my corner, wishing for something of substance to eat. Silently I pray that Crane would kill me and just get it over with. It would be the kindest of gestures, but Crane didn't strike me as a merciful man.

'_Pity'_

My door opens, interrupting my thoughts and for a moment I silently hope it is Crane, coming to finish what he had started. I look up, too woozy to raise my head. It is a woman orderly, followed by my two big guys. "A Miss Kyra Rhys, time for your shower." Her voice is kind and strong, with a hint of smoker's rasp. She is a big boned lady, with wide hazel eyes and bleached blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Her pearl stud earrings contrast with the lines of her skin as her makeup heavily reflects the eighties.

I couldn't have been happier to see her.

The proposition of a shower felt like I'd been selected as winner of the lottery. I try to sit but wind up slumping back onto the cold cement. _'Am I going to have enough strength to bath?'_ The woman motions for Demitri and Mark to pick me up. I don't resist. I want that shower. I manage to read her name with dull eyes, _'Cathy.'_ I couldn't have fit her better. "After your shower Dr. Crane would like to meet with you." She examines me with pity as I am held fast by my elbows.

'_Don't worry guys, running definitely isn't an option.'_

My orderlies stop and wait by the door as Cathy leads me into a small room with a bench. There is a Plexiglas wall with a door opening into a much larger room, fixed with four showerheads on each side of the three walls. A couple of showers are already being used by patients, all female to my relief. Cathy starts to dismantle my straightjacket. She lifts it over my head and sets it on the bench, next to a bin of freshly folded towels. I lift my arms. They feel both light and heavy and are badly weakened by disuse. She waits patiently as I undress. She hands me a small bottle of soap. "You have ten minutes." She then opens the door for me and I step into the showers.

Cathy then sat on the bench and scanned over her clipboard. I take in a deep breath of the warm moist steam and proceed towards a shower nozzle. I barely manage to turn the knob with my weak hands. It groans then hisses to life. The water is first a freezing mist then slowly it morphs into a warm spray. I close my eyes and let the water invigorate my senses. After several minutes of just standing with the water rushing over me, I concentrate on the task at hand and begin to bath. I scan my badly bruised body. I run my fingers over my protruding ribs. I had lost a good ten pounds. My normally athletic figure was becoming gaunt. I wanted to cry.

'_Is he trying to take everything?'_

The door to the showers opens. "Kyra, times up."

I turn off the shower and wring out my hair. I proceed to the door, wary of my exposure. Shyly, I fold my arms over my upper body and silently exit the showers. Cathy hands me a towel and I dry off. Putting on a fresh set of sweats and white muscle shirt she then leads me out of the room to my two orderlies. I flinch to a halt as Demitri holds up a clean straightjacket.

'_Oh no…'_

"Please no." I back away. "I'll be good, I promise…" I couldn't go back in that thing. I wouldn't be able to stand it.

"I'm only going to say this once; be a good girl." Demitri warns, stepping towards me, confident that I would behave. I look around hopelessly, Marcus is no where to be seen. For the first time at Arkham, I momentarily lost my sanity. I scream and bolt past Demitri. He stumbles but catches himself. I am already halfway down the hall, charging madly for the stairs. I shoot up them; I knew damn well I had been kept on the lowest level of the asylum. Adrenaline soared through my body, giving me unimaginable strength to run in such a weakened physical state. An alarm begins to sound in loud, pulsating rhythms, reminding me of the wailing sirens of a nuclear threat. There are little red lights every some odd feet that simultaneously blinked on and off. It seemed to match my heart rate.

My wobbly legs trip and I fall up the stairs, losing precious time. I scramble to pull myself up with my weak arms. I couldn't go back into that straightjacket…

'_I wonder what they'll do to me now….'_

The thought makes me want to go back and admit that I shouldn't have run. Promise that I will obey them from now on. Yet the thought of Crane's expression if I was to do so pushes me on. I come to a door and carefully crack it open. I peer through the small crevice and listen attentively. The hall appears vacant. I dash down the long hallway, glancing at the numbers on the doors as I pass by. I cry out as a loud thump on a nearby door makes me leap into the air. I stand panting and startled as I stare at a shadow of a man. His face presses against the pane of Plexiglas on the door of his cell. A prominent nose fogs the glass as he grins malevolently at me with long, straight teeth. Deep set eyes fixate on my form as a low chuckle emanates from within his throat.

"Running from the Scarecrow are we?" He hisses. "Now that's comedy…"

I back away, shaking from adrenaline. "Thanks for the update Howdy Doody."

He laughs a terrible sound. It's high at first then manifests into short low growls.

"I admire humor in a gal…" He cocks his head against the glass, stretching the skin back from one eye; giving the appearance of it bulging from his skull.

"You'd be wise not let the good doctor catch you. He'll do terrible things to your mind." The man's voice is low and deliberate.

'_Good observation! What was your first clue?'_

Terrified, I run.

My hair whips around my face like live wires, sending small beads of water upon the floor. I can hear the insane inmate calling after me.

"Have you ever danced…?"

The patting of my bare feet drowns out the rest of his statement. His horribly maniacal laughter chases after me as I desperately try to block out his voice. My breath caught in my throat when I came to a much brighter hallway. The fluorescent bulbs were new, the floors immaculate. Was I nearing the main entrance? I hear faint voices and footsteps behind me, my heart leaps, my legs exploding into action. I scale the entire hallway in less than five seconds. I thrust myself through the doors. I halt with mouth open in terrifying revelation. I am standing in a very bad place. This hallway was different. The walls are halfway glass, on looking into offices. _'No, no, no, shit!'_ I look behind me, the voices and footsteps growing much louder. I had no choice; I bolt through the clear tunnel of offices. Doctors and nurses look startled as I unexpectedly fly by. I catch glimpse of one of the nurses picking up a phone. A knot is forming in the pit of my stomach, still no sight of Crane. I silently pray he had the day off.

I burst through yet another set of doors. _'This place is a labyrinth!'_ I knew I wasn't going to get much farther. _'They are either going to catch me or I'm going to run into them.'_ The doors lead to a large room where I immediately spot a desk along with an entrance. It looks to be one of many. The woman behind the counter gasps as she catches sight of me. A young guard turns toward me. "Stop! Don't move!" He shouts as he approaches me with hands in a seemingly passive gesture, as if to halt me.

'_Yeah, because that always works in the movies…'_

I round a one-eighty and burst through the first door I see. Blindly I run up the stairs. I have to find a secure place to hide. Just as I conquer the first flight of stairs I collide solidly with a warm body. I nearly leap back down the stairs as my gaze met Dr. Crane's. I try to push him aside but he latches onto me, gathering a fist full of the front of my shirt. "No!" I scream into his face, daring to throw a few punches. They are completely ineffective, time in the straightjacket had seen to that. Crane let go of the front of my shirt and easily blocks my punches, a little too expertly. He grabs my wrists and drives me back first into the wall. By the look in his eyes, I half expected him to throw me down the stairs.

"Foolish little girl!" He yells into my lips, pausing only to slap me across the face. I've seen him angry before but now he seems unable to contain it. He had always been so controlled before, so self-contained, and above the bondage of emotions.

'_Good to see he's human.'_

"Bent little boy!" I shout right back at him, adding emphasis to last word. He is not going to win. Not without a damn good fight. Suddenly he grabs me by the throat and slams me into the nearby railing. I cry out upon impact, the blow actually popping my lower vertebrae. His grip tightens, cutting off my source of oxygen. Instinctively I grip my hands over his wrists, willing him to pull away. My head dizzied and my arms began to grow heavy.

"You want to spar with me Kyra? If you do, I'll happily give you a run." He hisses into my face and violently flings me down onto the opposite wall, sitting me down. The collision knocks out what little air I had left. I cough and heave, desperate for oxygen. I look weakly up at him, discreetly gathering my legs in defense, should he approach. I could do a repeat of the Pyrrhic victory I had won over him in my cell. Perhaps it would buy me time to get away…

"Get up." Crane's voice is angry yet controlled. I dare not budge. "I said, get up!"

I watch his knees as he approaches me; weakly I kick out at him. He swats my foot out of the way and hoists me up by my arm.

"You interest me Kyra. But that doesn't mean I won't hurt you."

'_It means you will.'_

He examines me with intrigue, as if he could imagine what I was thinking.

"I want to know exactly what's going on in there." He almost gently strokes the back of my head, seemingly suppressing a smile as he felt my body stiffen at the contact.

"Let's make some progress today, shall we?" His tone is professional again as he begins to lead me down and out of the stairwell.

'_No, Dr. Crane let's not…' _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

Dr. Crane and my two orderlies brought me into a small room. It held a strange odor of freshly opened plastic and something else, something I didn't recognize. I managed to escape the plight of the straightjacket yet my arms and legs are now strapped onto a cold metal table. A strap rests over my forehead, prohibiting me from turning my head. I use my eyes to examine the room. Large machines rest against the walls as they beep quietly. Out of my peripheral I see the door opening as Dr. Crane steps in, shutting the door behind him. He's holding a small syringe in his hand.

'_Great.'_

He grabs a metal chair and pulls it swiftly beside the table. He sits down and examines my face. Crane leans in so close that I can smell his expensive cologne. A single tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. I tremble in fear of what to come.

"Everything you've wanted to say to me. You're going to say freely now." He speaks as he uncaps the syringe, flicking the tube then tapping the vein in my arm.

"Please don't."

He cocks his head to the side, perplexed of my sudden submission no doubt. Yet his expression is unreadable. The tip of the needle hovers just above my skin. Crane places a hand over my forehead and gazes into my eyes. I watch his eyes gleam as he notices the obvious fear that dwelled within my own. I knew that's what he wanted, what he expected. He smiles at me, I know it isn't genuine. He is pleased because he knows he's won. Hand still placed on my head he brushes my skin with his thumb. Remarkably, I manage to suppress a shudder.

"Let's see what you have to say, shall we?"

'_Dear God no!'_

I barely feel the sharp, cold sting of the needle. But I feel the warm rush of the fluid through my veins as it disperses throughout my entire body. It's honesty flooding within me, clouding all my logic and reasoning. My mouth is a loaded gun. I feel drunk. My body is relaxed yet my mind is panicked. The tips of my fingers and toes are cold as my spine breaks into a frigid sweat. I close my eyes tightly and draw in a distressed breath through my nose, sucking nervously on the bottom of my lip. I open my eyes to see Crane's curious yet frustrated face.

"There will be none of that." He orders; addressing the physical halt I had pressed upon my mouth. Adherently he is unimpressed by my flipping on the safety latch.

'_Fuck you.'_

"Fuck you."

'_Oh, for the love of God…'_

"I'm going to assume that's the drug speaking, so I'll let it go this time." He gently gathers my chin in his hand. "But watch yourself."

'_I can't!'_

"I'm going to ask you a series of questions Kyra and I expect you to answer them. I have incentive waiting in case you need encouragement. It's not the kindest available. So you had better be willing." He lets go of me.

"Now then…" He settles into a chair, clipboard at hand.

"What are you most afraid of?"

I can feel the drug completely invading my mind, violating its privacy. I am unable to contain my thoughts. But I remember being asked this question before. Answers roll off my tongue freely.

"Having no control over myself..."

"Being completely dictated by another individual?"

"Yes."

"Do I frighten you?"

"You scare the hell out of me."

Crane's expression is nothing short of euphoric. His eyes flutter briefly as he exhales quietly.

"Do you need a moment to gather yourself?" I spit, my mind whirling in disconnection from my body.

"You'll need one if you don't watch yourself." His expression is sharp, dead serious. He moves on.

"Why do I scare you?"

"You're crazier than the people you lock up. Sure, your reputation gives you great respect and recognition but you're doing something else here…you're pretending to help your patients…it's all a façade…"

"A façade is it?" He questions.

"You're pretending to be sane…damn it must be hard…" Mentally I am kicking myself for my unabashed responses.

"You're about to find out just how hard it really is. For the last time Kyra, do not insult me again. Now, let's move on…"

"…what happened to your parents?"

"My mother killed herself and my real father is in a mental institute. I used to live at one of the colleges, until I was brought here."

"You're father is in an institution?"

"That's what I said."

"What for?"

"Paranoia and schizophrenia …"

"Interesting."

"Yeah, if you're psychotic."

"You said your real father. I presume you had a stepfather as well?"

"Yeah, he was a real winner, alcoholic and a druggie. He used to abuse my mom, until…"

"What had happened Kyra?"

"I had come over for a visit and I walked in and he was strangling her…I…jumped on him and tried to pull him off."

"What did he do to you Kyra?"

"He hit me and threw me across the room."

"What did you do?"

"I left."

"Your step father, besides the one incident, did he ever try to hurt you?"

"Only once after, he usually just ignored me. But I smarted off and he beat me."

"What did you say Kyra?"

"He had a few of his buddies over. They were all drunk and doing drugs. I shouldn't have been there but I wanted to know that my mom was alright. I was home from college for the weekend so I thought I'd check on her. She wasn't alright; they had all taken turns on her. She was in her bathroom crying hysterically and shooting up. They made her bleed!"

Crane listened intently. I hear the faint humming sound of a tape recorder. He's taping this. The thought didn't appeal to me but I could not control my tongue.

"I walked back into the room where they were and picked up the phone…Marshall asked me who I was calling. When I didn't respond I remember him storming over to me. He yanked the phone from me and slammed it onto the floor. It shattered. My only hope was shattered. He told me that I better have not been trying to call the police. I tried to get by but he was a big man, he'd dwarf you Crane."

Crane's eyes narrowed coldly. "Continue."

"He picked me up and threw me onto the couch. The other guys…the way they looked at me…I tried to get up but he held me down. He sat down and told me that I needed to stay there until he figured out what to do with me. I said he'd be passed out before then and that's when he hit me. He kept hitting me. The others just laughed, they didn't join but they didn't help. It was all a show to them. I yelled for my mom but she didn't respond."

"The other men, did they try to take advantage of you?"

"Yeah, I don't know how I got away. I just remember driving ninety to get away. I had blood on my hands…it wasn't mine."

"What became of your mother Kyra?"

"She killed herself shortly after…"

"I see. Now, what is your greatest fear here at Arkham?"

'_No!'_

I bite at my bottom lip.

"Kyra?"

"What?" My mind had wandered away from his voice.

"Answer me." His tone is steady and persistent.

"That…you might take advantage of me..."

Crane looks momentarily shocked then composes himself immediately.

"What would give you the impression that I would…take advantage of you?" He is calm and collected. Yet I catch glimpse at a bead of sweat as it shimmers on his forehead.

'_Aside from the mind fucking?'_

"Because…you're bent enough to do it…"

"Does the thought excite you?"

"Don't flatter yourself Dr. Crane." I lick my lips. "I'm no slave of desperation…"

"Excuse me?"

"You have to strap down all the girls?"

He stands up from his chair, looming over me. "Are you challenging me?"

'_Nope, just calling you out.'_

"Have I not been the duration of my stay?"

Crane laughs very quietly. I would not have heard it had I not been examining him so closely. It is not something I expected to hear. I was prepared for a slap or another rough grab at my face. His uncharacteristic response both shocks and frightens me.

"Sharp. What else is in there?" He places his hand on my thigh.

"What makes you tick?" His hand slithers to my stomach.

I close my eyes, unable to suppress a frightened whimper.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

'_Like it would make sense if you did…'_

"Dr. Crane?"

"Yes Kyra?"

'_You'll never have my mind.'_

"Where did it all go wrong for you?"

"Trying to unsettle me?"

"Just trying to understand my doctor's motives…"

"Well, to your dismay, I'm afraid that mind games don't work on me. I thought you would have learned that by now. " I watch him bite his bottom lip to mock my disappointment.

He leans in close and whispers a warm breath into my ear. "There is nothing you can do to rise above _my_ will. So Kyra, _I_ am the untouchable one."

'_You're heartless…'_

I match his gaze as he withdraws and watches me. I lick my lips before speaking. "Must make you feel like you're missing out on something? Knowing that something in your oh-so-superior-mind doesn't commute? That there's something you can't feel?" I take in a shallow breath before finishing my statement.

"It's pathetic." I exhale.

I look up into his baleful, heavy lidded glare. His piercing eyes gaze smugly at me. His rigid posture would prove that my words were in fact affective.

"Well then, perhaps I should show you just how much I don't feel…" Crane left the statement open as he retrieves something from his black suit case that I had failed to notice before.

Crane holds up the unmistakable canvas of a burlap mask. A haphazardly stitched mouth grins malevolently at me. Instinctively I pull at my restraints. _'Holy shit!'_ Crane places the mask over his head. His striking eyes gleam bright through the holes of the rough material. Then I notice the way he held his right wrist, his delicate but strong fingers curling over some unseen object. He is hiding something from me. I struggle harder against my restraints. Suddenly I calm. _'Keep your head!'_

"I'm not in the mood for dress up." My voice is more even and more controlled than I felt.

Crane places his hand on my shoulder. "Perhaps this will sway you…" With that a strong powdery substance assaults my face, invading my nostrils, itching down into my lungs. I cough violently, unable to move my head within the restraints. The burlap skin takes life of its own. The eyes meld into the canvas as the stitched grin morphs into jagged teeth. The mask metastasizes to the face of Dr. Crane yet it shifts from sinister to ghoulish, to demonic. _'Is this what LSD does?'_ Terrifying sounds take place as the face shifts. I shriek at its abnormality. A sinister expression leans close to my face. Hyperventilating I stare wide eyed at the creature before me. What had happened to the doctor?

"Dr. Crane?" I nearly scream.

"No! Scarecrow." His voice is deliberate and distorted.

I close my eyes, willing the sight before me to vanish. "No. Dr. Crane…what did you do to me…?" I begin to weep as my heart races at inconceivable speed.

"Look at me." The creature commands.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Look at me!" The voice booms. When I didn't immediately respond, strong hands clutched the sides of my face and shook me.

"Look!"

I open my eyes.

"What do you see?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright, so Crane is much bolder in this chapter, showing just how nasty he can be. I know, you're asking yourself, 'is this possible?' Hopefully, I succeed in showing that it is. **

**I want to thank all my faithful reviewers, you all have been the best! **

**Chapter 8**

"The…evil inside you…" is my quiet response.

"Good girl." The ghoul before me places his hand on my neck and squeezes briefly. "Cooperation it will make this process much easier for you."

"You mean for you…" My gaze is wide, terrified. I tremble under his touch.

"You're afraid that I might take advantage of you…" Crane's arm roams from my neck downward. My heart leaps in fear, my chest beginning to quake.

"…just how afraid are you?" He slithers on top of me.

"Get off me!" Immediately his hand slaps over my mouth.

"When will you stop fighting me? What is it going to take?" Crane's other hand slinks under my shirt and brushes against my cold skin. His hand is warm, strong, but comforting it is not. It is invasive and demanding, daring me to object. I close my eyes, forcing my mind to go to another place. Crane seems to have sensed this. He closes in on me, stretching his face nearer to mine and breathing into my lips.

"How's it going to feel when I take advantage of you? Knowing that whatever I do, you can't stop me?" His voice although mutated carries a certain rasp that wasn't there before. He sounds excited at the prospect. I can tell. I can _feel_.

Suddenly my heart starts to ache. My entire chest tightens in almost unbearable pain as I became increasingly disoriented. I struggle to speak through his hand. My back arches from underneath him. My toes curl, hands ball into tight fists. Tendons are clearly visible through my flexed arms as they tense against the hard straps. I've never felt this sensation before. My heart feels as if on fire. I manage a muffled scream. I eyes tighten shut as tears slip past my tightly pressed lids. I take huge breaths in through my nose, trying to calm my heart rate. Crane halts his hand's progression from underneath my shirt and firmly places it over my heart. He growls angrily.

"If you scream, you'll wish I'd let you die. I'll see to that." The burlap scratches against my face. I nod then grimace in pain as my heart works in overdrive. Crane leaps off me and darts for something in his briefcase. A cold needle plunges into the vein in my arm. A few long seconds after my heart rate gradually begins to slow, the fire in my chest begins to smolder. The burning of my lungs begins to subside; the acid in my throat slides back down. Suddenly I am utterly exhausted. My entire body collapses. Fists completely unfurled. My limbs feel like rubber. My mouth parts from labored, short shallow breaths. Eyes are half closed, head lolling to one side as much as possible. Cold moisture begins to breakout over my body.

Crane stands hovering over me. "I almost scared you to death." I hear him take off the mask and toss it onto his suitcase. "I'd rather that you see my face when I do it." He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip and I am too weak to object. My eyes merely flutter at the contact. "But not today…" The disappointment is plain in his so expertly controlled tone. A static sound catches our attention.

"Dr. Crane, psych ward. You're needed immediately." A stern female voice resounds through a small intercom in the room. Crane mumbles something I can't understand as he again presses his hand over my heart. I can't move. I am paralyzed with fatigue. He moves back an eyelid and quickly flashes a blinding light. A small noise of disapproval emits from my throat. "You'll be fine." Crane confirms as he picks up his suitcase, setting it onto a nearby chair. He opens it and tosses the mask inside then straightens his jacket. Running his hands through his hair he clears his throat. "I'll be back shortly…don't go anywhere." He exits quickly.

I lie there, imprisoned within my own body. My mind is temporarily slowed from the trauma, my body completely unusable. I try to move my fingers and then my arm, hoping the cold sweat would cause my arm to slip through the thick leather…impossible. The straps are so tight that they'd left fresh burns onto my soft skin. My eyes lag to the nearby clock. I try to focus on the black numbers. Quickly after, I lose consciousness.

In the back of my mind a noise catches my attention. I awake still on the table, still completely weak. My limbs useless and I utterly inhibited. My eyes only half open as I realize it is the door opening. I note drowsily that it did not shut. Dr. Crane walks over. He looks slightly perturbed. He checks my pulse then my pupils. "I much prefer you this way." He speaks as he unbuckles the straps which so cruelly hold me bound to the metallic table. I watch his shoulders as he moves to the straps over my ankles, the two over my legs, and then the other two over my upper torso. I completely relax with the newfound freedom of no bonds. Crane slides his arms under my slight weight, gathering me into his wiry arms. I think this very unusual of him. _'Doesn't he have people to do this for him?'_ Yet my body completely folds into his arms; which feel like bars of metal underneath me. My head involuntarily rolls onto his shoulder. Again the expensive fragrance hits me. I could feel his thin, strong frame from under his designer suit as he walks.

Dr. Crane carries me to my cell and sets me onto a mysterious cot; one that hadn't been there before. I can tell by the musty smell that I am still in the narrows of the asylum. The cot is small, old, and dusty, but I am grateful. For it is far better than the hard, coldness of the concrete floor. The bed creaks as Crane sets me gingerly upon it. I am both touched and wary by his sudden softness. "Thank…you…" I barely whisper with dry lips.

I can feel Crane hover silently above me for several seconds. He says nothing and exits the cell. The door echoes loudly behind him. I listen to the loud reverberations as they jar my brain, making me grit my teeth. But I lay my head onto the not-so-soft, lumpy pillow, feeling that it is beautiful to have that cushion underneath my head. Deftly darkness crept upon me. Swallowing my conscious mind whole in its tender grip, pulling me down gently into its warm cloak.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello everyone! I hope you all had a very safe and wonderful Christmas/New Year! May the New Year bring many new stories! **

**Now, I'd like to thank all my faithful reviewers. You all have been the best and I wish many blessings upon you all.**

**This chapter is a little slow. I wanted there to be a good taste of melancholy in Kyra's current situation. So hopefully, it succeeds. **

**Sorry it took me so long to update, what with the holidays, college revving back up, and a new job (waitressing, uh). Whew, I'm swamped! I've enrolled in a psychology class this semester, so there's bound to be another Crane story in the future. I'll be an informed writer now, this is good. You know you got it bad when you start picking classes that parallel with the characters you like…or to improve your fan fiction. I'm hopeless really.**

**Hope everyone enjoys!**

**Chapter 9**

Dr. Crane is keeping me highly sedated as the weeks pass by like quiet phantoms. I am unsure exactly what his motives are as I am kept in my cell continually. My constant state is drugged and starving. Dr. Crane still hasn't seen that my meals consist of anything more than bread and water. I wonder how much longer my body will hold out. I make sure to adjust my attitude whenever I am visited. I am polite and compliant as to avoid further abuse. Demitri seems to disappoint as he is no longer given reason to throw me around. He would enter with medication and leave fairly quickly with no exchange of words other than, 'take your pills' which I would respond with an enthusiastic outreach of my hand. It is doubtful I could stand another beating.

All I can do is lay completely inhibited on my cot and stare at the ceiling with my half closed eyes. The medication is high powered and I have lost all fine motor skills as well as some of the major ones. I could probably walk but I feel it an unneeded risk, if I fall, it is quite possibly I wouldn't be able to pick myself up. Needless to say, using the facilities is a daunting task.

The air pressure in the room shifts just as the large door to my cell creaks open. I groan, dreading the appearance of the good doctor. I am pleasantly surprised that it is none other than Cathy. I flick my eyes in her direction and manage to turn to look at her. Disorientation fuses through my head as black spots quickly sprinkle into my vision. I close my eyes to ward off the black veil that would inevitably be next.

"Good afternoon Kyra." She greets with a warm, genuine smile.

'_Is that what time it is?' _

Time has a way of shifting itself in unequivocal patterns under the influence of high dosage tranquilizers.

"Dr. Crane has decided to give you one hour of time in the rec. room." Cathy explains as she begins to dress me with a straightjacket.

'_Should I be excited about this?'_

"Goody and do what? Lay incapacitated in a different room?" I manage, words slurring together. "I hardly know how to express my gratitude." I finish, rolling my eyes to then focus on the wall.

Cathy shoots me a smile of mild annoyance as she tightens the last of the straps. "Very funny you, Crane warned me that you had a mouth on you. Although, I suppose that's what I get for letting you stretch your legs during my break time."

'_Wow, such generosity today._'

I am well aware that Cathy is indeed not the likes of Dr. Crane and is perhaps, just as much prisoner as I. Although, under a much different circumstance.

Cathy has to hold fast onto my arm as she leads me down the hallways and through the elevator. This gesture is not due to risk of me fleeing as much as to the risk of me falling. I am drunk with medication as she escorts me through the lighted hallway to a room with walls practically of Plexiglas, to keep a watchful eye on us patients, no doubt. She slides her authorization card through the I.D. lock and guides me inside. Despite the room's rather clean appearance, it smells of musk and tile grime. I crinkle my nose as the new smell assaults my senses.

I drowsily gaze around the room and my accompaniments. There is a broad array of patients as young as I to those well into their seventies. Most daze into an awkward silence, staring into nothing. Or quite possibly they were gazing at something, seeing as how Crane loves to drug his patients. There is a faint cacophony of shuffling feet and disconnected voices, mumbling such that I cannot not quite hear let alone understand. A couple of patients wore padded helmets and for good reason I note as I watch them thud into nearby walls, slurring words of discontentment. I am the only one in a straightjacket; I think this strange for these poor souls among me seem in far greater need of physical restraint. A twinge of envy shoots through me then is gone. I would rather have it as such, stake my comfort for the sake of my sanity, hardly a question of bargain.

"Where would you like me to sit you darlin'?" Cathy's accent soothes me as I lazily bite my bottom lip in contemplation.

'_Since when the democracy?'_

"The window…" I croak. Cathy nods and hauls me over to the window, sitting me down in a nearby chair.

I blink and focus on that beautiful light. It has been so long since I've seen the sunlight. I've forgotten what a simple pleasure, a luxury it actually is. I sit mesmerized by the intrinsic patterns the grate's shadow of the window created as it spilt cross-hatching over my still form. For a moment it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I stumble out of my chair, its wooden legs shrieking against the tiled floor. I fall onto the ledge by the window and wriggle on top of it. Getting as close to that window as I can, to feel the sun warmed metal against my skin. I've been cold for so long. I nestle against it, leaning my head onto the mesh covering. I find it sharp, but warm and beautiful.

I sit here, head foggy but wondering if I would ever be able to lie in the warm grass, blanketed by a veil of sunlight. Listening to the birds chirp as they passed overhead. Would I ever be able to escape the heat and find comfort under the deep shade of a tree or only the cold hardness of my cell's cement floor? What would it take for me to get out of this insufferable place?

As I begin to doze off, a voice shouts in short protest from the nearby hall. Immediately I perk up. I know that voice. I squint my eyes and focus through the Plexiglas just a second too late. I see a male orderly pass by, pushing a patient forward. Disappointed, I slouch back down. There is no possible way that I know any of the patients here. Yet I am so sure of the familiarity of that voice. Light footsteps can be heard outside the room. I turn my head toward the sunlight. I know who is passing down the hall. I have no desire to look at Dr. Crane, no matter how much free time he allows me.

I hear the light steps fall silent; he isn't even halfway down the hall. I close my eyes. _'Rain, rain, go away…' _I want to focus on my sunlight. I can feel his cold gaze upon me, even in the sun's warm glow; I shiver under his heat penetrating gaze. I have to give him credit for that. As quickly as it came, it went. Then I am warm again as those light footsteps descend down the hall. I relax at once. Is that what he wanted; to see my adherent discomfort under his scrutiny?

My mind reaches a childlike state as I lay under those intoxicatingly cozy rays of warmth. I'm rendered helpless in a pool of evaporated gold, the equivalent of laying in a warm bath. If the saying holds true, 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away,' then I will need a whole fucking orchard.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**

I awake to the sound of Demitri's voice. "She'll wake up when I tell her to wake up." I open my eyes to find myself still perched on the window ledge. Demitri is talking to my dear Cathy. Had I refused to wake up earlier? My head is less fuzzy and I can tell that the medication isn't as strong in my system. I shift my legs and stretch them farther onto the ledge, I am stove up. The movement catches their attention. Demitri heads towards me. Involuntarily I shrink away from him as he grabs me by the front straps of my straightjacket. My head reels momentarily. He sets me firmly onto my feet. "Walk." He orders. I look over at Cathy whom seems to be displeased by Demitri's lack of geniality, yet she says nothing. _'Probably wouldn't do me any good anyway.'_ She shoots be an apologetic as well as accusatory look, as if I'm partially to blame for my rough treatment.

"Dr. Crane wants to see you." Demitri informs me as we head approach the door. Immediately my feet plant upon hearing those words. Demitri nearly topples over me as he hits solidly into my back. I grunt a little as I'm rocked forward but I remain still. I can hear Demitri take in an infuriated breath. He is holding back in front of Cathy's watchful gaze.

"It'll be alright dear; he just wants to check up on you." Cathy's accent fills my ears. I find it less than reassuring.

'_Sure.'_

Demitri places a strong hand on my shoulder and leans in close. "If you don't move right now I'm gunna visit you later." He whispers then pats my shoulder, looking as though he had just exchanged some encouraging words. I shudder. Which option is worse? Then it dawns on me that I'd rather see Crane with half of my coherence as opposed to seeing him on a later date, when I could perhaps be completely inebriated with drugs. I continue forward on my own accord as Demitri slides his card into the lock. The automatic click chirps then beeps as the door opens. Cathy follows our heels. "Smart girl," Demitri whispers as we descend down the hall.

Moments later we are standing in front of the office door labeled, 'Dr. Jonathan Crane: Head Psychiatrist.' I find the title completely humorous. He is the head of his field and is indeed a doctor of the head. I audibly take in a deep breath. What would today's session have in store for me? I know Demitri can feel my muscles twitch as he places his hand closer to the back of my neck lest I should bolt. Demitri reaches over me with his free hand to place a few knocks upon the door. Shortly it is opened by Dr. Crane, whom steps to the side to allow Demitri and I passage. "Do you need me to wait nearby?" He asks the doctor as he sits me down in the chair opposite Crane's desk.

"That won't be necessary, I'm quite sure she's aware of the consequences…" Crane trails off as he watches me. Demitri nods as he crosses over the doorway.

"Be back in one hour." Crane orders and shuts the door.

I sit motionless in the chair, eyes downcast, too drowsy to pay the doctor any real attention. I am sure I'll catch hell for it. Crane sits down in his chair; I note how fluid and soundless his movements are.

'_Graceful.'_

"How are we feeling today?" His voice is soft but his expression hard.

'_Well, I know how I'm feeling, not sure how you feel …'_

"I'm fine." I have only brought my gaze upward for a fleeting moment.

"Look at me when you speak." Crane suddenly commands and for the life of me, I could not look up. He terrifies me too much now. Yet if I don't obey, what would he do next? Or have done?

Reluctantly I turn in his direction yet I shift my eyes away and to that file cabinet which rests behind his desk. I wonder what I might find in those slick folders. What other names might I find next to mine? What indeed is he hiding?

"What are you thinking?" Crane inquires upon my intense gaze behind him.

"Surprisingly, lots of things…" I leave it open.

"Such as…?"

"You've a lot of file cabinets…"

"I've a lot of patients…"

I smile. "Yes, I'm sure you do."

He tilts his head ever so slightly.

"What are you getting at Kyra?"

I turn my head in a dismissive response.

"Kyra," He warns.

I lick my lips. "My brother…he's here in Arkham, isn't he? That would explain why you've doped me up on so many drugs…you didn't want me to find out. But your orderlies…they slipped up by walking him past me, didn't they?" It is more than I've spoken in a great time and took good concentration to form the words coherently. The drugs are indeed starting to wear off a great deal. He probably knows this yet I try to act as though they are still having an effect. I need all the advantage I can get.

"What if I was to say you're incorrect?" He sounds indignant.

"Then I'd say you are lying."

"He is here in Arkham. You are right about that but as far as his mentality is concerned, he is as far from here as possible." Crane is now standing up.

"So if you're thinking I might allow some sort of family reunion between the two of you, then I seriously need to consider upping your medication." His places his hands on the edges of his desk, knuckles white and angry.

"I understand. That won't be necessary…" I am meek again yet I want to know more about my brother.

"Why is he here?"

"No more questions Kyra. I'm not here to answer your inquiries. Now, let's begin our session, we've wasted enough time." He sits back down and opens a clean slate of paper and pen.

I lean back and exhale a frustrated sigh.

"How are the drugs making you feel? Any concerns as to their effect?" He is professional. I actually gawk at his questions.

"Are you serious? You prescribed them doctor; how the in fuck do you think they're having effect?" I regret my brashness instantly; he would more than likely up my medication now. I start backtracking.

"I'm sorry Dr. Crane. I'm tired, sore, hungry, and irritable, I didn't mean you disrespect."

'_Oh yes I did.'_

I look down and suck in my top lip, ashamed at my weakness, disgusted by my compliance.

Crane examines me for a good minute, deciding what to do with my sudden passivity. "You just saved yourself a good deal of trouble. I wonder how sincere you actually are." His voice feels closer although he remains in his expensive chair.

"What is your greatest fear?" His expression is grave.

"It's you."

'_You polished, bent little bastard…'_

"Why is that Kyra?"

"Because I know what you're capable of…I know to what extent you'll go to…"

Crane seems more than pleased with my response. I hear him mark that clean sheet of paper.

"What would you do to achieve my favor?" I look up at this question.

'_What?'_

I stare through the veil of my side bangs, utterly astounded by the audacity as well as vagueness of his question.

I shrug, truly baffled. "I'd…obey…"

"Come here then." Crane almost gently commands his voice incredulously soft. I quiver with uncertainty. Slowly, carefully I stand up from the chair, straightjacket whistling against the smooth leather. Tentatively I step toward his desk. Fear obvious on my face and feeling like a walking cocoon.

"No, come _here_." He motions me around the desk. I obey. I stand beside his chair, eyes averted elsewhere. His strong hands tug at the front straps of my jacket, urging me into a sitting position. Crane then lifts my chin upward with his hand. He is gentle as if regretful for making me so fearful of him. I know otherwise.

"Do you know why I stopped to observe you in the recreational room, when you were dozing on the window ledge?" He asks in a low voice, his inescapable eyes devouring me.

I shake my head.

"Because the sunlight made your hair look as if it were fire." He says a little breathlessly. Shocked I start to get up but he holds onto my chin.

"What would you do?" He reaches out with his free hand and play with a strand of my hair making me gasp at the sudden suggestive touch. I am completely taken aback by his behavior, this isn't my doctor, and this isn't the cruel man that I've known.

"Dr. Crane?" I ask in an unsure tone if the same man sitting before me.

"Tell me that you fear me." His voice becomes harsh, demanding.

"I do fear you."

"What?" He asks, voice heightens and eyes glowering.

"I fear you." I repeat as his immobilizing grip bores into my skin.

"Why?"

"Because you're stronger…I have no control, I'm completely under your authority…I'm helpless…so completely helpless…" At the last two words I begin to weep. Crane places both hands on the sides of my face, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

"You won't regret this session." He gently lets go of me.

"Return to your seat."

I am so confused; I get up slowly and return to my chair. What had just happened?

Dr. Crane presses a button on his phone.

"Demitri please come to my office to relieve me of Miss. Rhys, we are finished for today." He glances up at me and I look away.

"You did well today Kyra."


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, first of all I feel I owe an immense apology for the incredulously long pause in updating. I've had so much going on and my creativity has shifted towards new aspects. Although, I will never give up my writing, it is my heart. I've just been trying my hand at new things. I plan for the next update to be quicker. Please don't hate me guys, you all have been wonderful and I am forever grateful for it.**

**I've also just returned from Great Britain and that has left me exhausted in a pleasant sort of way. I digress.**

**This chapter is extremely rough, there's some material here that might not be suitable for sensitive readers. Ye be warned.**

**Please feel free to let me know what you think. I'd love to know.**

**And thank you again for those who have not given up on me. That means so much.**

**Enjoy…er, kinda.**

**Chapter 11**

The next morning I am provided with an actual meal. Starving, I practically inhale the rations of meat, vegetables, and bread. They even provide me a glass of cold milk. I am forever ingratiated for the substance the meal provides me despite my not being able to finish the plate. My body feels instantly better, a little strength returning to me. After I finish, my stomach hurts, not from overeating as from my stomach wanting to refuse the sudden weight of content. I've been kept alive on merely bread and water for what seemed weeks, although I have no accurate calculation of the time span between my arrival and now.

I collapse onto my cot after eating. I lie supine to sooth my full stomach and immediately fall into a deep sleep.

I wake up abruptly, startled by the sudden feeling of heated eyes upon me. Demitri is standing over my form; I hadn't heard him come in. My lips part in shock.

'_What is he doing here? How long have I been asleep?'_

"Get up." He growls at me. When I don't immediately respond he yanks me up by the front of my shirt.

'_Do you always have to display such brute force?'_

I grit my teeth at the jerky movement, my stomach immediately becoming queasy. "Why won't you ever just give me a moment?"

"You gettin' smart with me kid?" He breathes into my face.

'_Pardon my perplexing you…'_

"No…just give me a chance before..." My voice falters upon inspection of his glare. I am not helping myself. I suddenly feel that this visit is going to be very different.

"Are you tellin' me what to do now?" He wrenches me closer, shaking me.

'_For crying out loud, how insecure are you…?'_

"No, I wouldn't do that." I try my best to back track. "I know you're the one in charge."

Something in Demitri's eyes frightens me as I visibly shudder. "Is Crane expecting me?" I ask, hopeful he'll realize that my doctor wouldn't want to be kept waiting as I latently try to dispel the animalistic look in those hazel eyes.

He slaps me.

"You'll address him as Doctor Crane, do you understand?"

"Please, I don't want trouble…" I whimper.

'_I'm so fucking tired of trouble.'_

"You don't want trouble, do you?" He throws me into the nearby wall. I cry out upon impact, my stomach lurching miles ahead of me. I hug my sides, trying to not retch. I lean forward, grimacing.

"I don't give a shit about what_ you_ want!"

"Please…"

I hear Demitri breathe audibly through his nose as he glances at the door. It is shut, secure. He looks back down at me and instantly my skin crawls. I'm consciously aware of his intentions. I shake my head, no…

He crouches next to me and places a strong hand against my throat as he reaches for my pants. 'No…!" I squirm against his hold. He only presses harder into my throat as a blow to the stomach stops all my feeble attempts to dislodge his grip. I try to cough yet am confined within his solid clutch.

"I'm going to try this again, resist and I'll make this harder for you." He proceeds to remove the obtrusive garment. I close my eyes, suddenly wishing for my doctor to come in. Would he help me? Or would he allow this cretin the leisure of violating me?

"Demitri, please…don't…" I try against the pressure, desperate to spark any minute inkling of humanity within him. He looks up at me for a moment; something shines in his eyes as he forces my legs apart and lumbers on top of me.

"Seems I'll be the one administering the therapy Crane has so carelessly neglected to give you…" He backhands me. Silently I pray he would knock me unconscious. I don't want to be awake for this.

"Dr. Crane knows you're doing this?" I barely manage.

"You say anything and next time it'll be far more painful…" He breathes into my ear.

I understand.

'_Next time…?'_

I spit onto his face. His face shifts from shock to outrage he prepares to swing at me. Quickly I slide to the side as his grip is loosened. I hear his fist crunch into the hard wall. Demitri howls in pain as he cradles his hand. "You bloody, mother fucking bitch!" By then I had pulled up my pants and made for the door. I pound on the metal surface, screaming for help.

"Dr. Crane help me! Dr. Crane please! He…" A rough hand clamps over my mouth as my back is pulled to his chest, bear hugging me he backs up to the wall.

"You wanna do it this way?" He pulls me into him and he is painful against my lower back. I bite onto his hand and jam my elbow into his stomach. He whoops and doubles over. I grab the empty tray on the floor and hold it up as if a shield. He laughs at me.

"What you think that piece of plastic is going to stop me?" He steps closer to me as completely recovered from the recent attack.

'_Oh fuck, oh fuck!'_

"Kid…do you know what I could do to you?" He threatens as he takes a step closer.

I'm dizzy as a rush of adrenaline courses through me. I hold up the tray, preparing for his next movement. He lounges at me, knocking the tray from my hands, it skitters across the floor. He propels me against the wall, I fight back, trying to scratch at his face, anything. Yet he grips my wrists and slings me face first into the wall, twisting my arm painfully against my back.

"What are you gunna do now, huh?" Demitri shouts as he leans close against me, pulling my arm painfully upward as I cry out.

"Where's your sarcasm now? Come on, nothing to say?" His free hand roams over me, groping over my stomach then up under my shirt. I don't know how he manages to slide his hand over my front, for I am completely plastered to that wall from his crushing weight.

"Not such a kid…" He rasps as he roughly squeezes me.

'_Please, please, please no!'_

He then slides his hand over my stomach and rams his hands downward. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force my mind to any place but here. Any! I feel the coldness hit me like a shock as my pants fall to my knees. I feel him reach for his pants, hear the zipper. I start to cry, shaking uncontrollably. Then I feel his warmth between my legs just as he is about to violate me.

Then there are light footsteps from the hall._ 'It's Crane!'_ Before Demitri can react, for he is focused only at the task at hand, I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Dr. Crane! Help me Dr. Crane, he's…!" Immediately he backhands my mouth and yanks up my pants. He then whirls me onto the floor. I cry out as my shoulder slams onto the hard surface. I sniffle and cradle my mouth as the light footsteps quicken. Demitri pulls his pants up just in time. He rushes to the door and opens it to see Dr. Crane's questioning expression. The good doctor looks none too thrilled. His gaze pierces Demitri for a few long moments then quickly flicks over to my huddled form.

"What seems to be the problem?" His tone is arrogant, always. But at that moment it was pure poetry to my ears.

"Bitch is giving me trouble…" Demitri covers lamely.

I stand up, shaking on ungainly legs. "He tried to rape me…" My voice breaks. Demitri whips around to look at me and for a moment I think he will reach out and strangle me.

Dr. Crane expressionlessly examines me. His eyes then shift to Demitri. "Is this true?"

"No, Doctor Crane, she's lying. I wouldn't do that." He raises his hands as if surrendering. "I listen to your orders only."

All the while Crane was looking at me. Then I hear him take in a controlled breath. He looks annoyed as he takes off his spectacles and places them into his suit pocket.

"Demitri you will hand in your I.D. at the front desk and leave the premises immediately. You are terminated from Arkham Asylum." His voice is calm and collected.

"What?" Demitri raises his eyebrows.

"You heard me. Now go."

"Now listen here, I didn't do anything."

"You tried!" I scream at him.

"You shut up, no one asked you!" Demitri whirls on me with a raised fist, only Dr. Crane catches it just before it descends upon me.

"I believe I ordered you to go Mr. Wallace. I don't expect to repeat myself." Crane's eyes blaze through the taller man. I take a step back, suddenly very terrified of the doctor.

Demitri jerks his hand away and then proceeds to turn on the smaller man.

"Seems I don't work for you anymore…" He steps closer to Crane, a good couple inches taller than the doctor. I watch as Demitri strikes up the challenge as Crane stands his ground, his expression serene.

"If you take battery against me I will be forced to call the authorities and I will press charges against you to the fullest extent of the law. I advise you leave now." Crane remains still, unwilling to back down. A thick silence passes between the two of them as I stare open-mouthed at Demitri's clenched fist. I wonder if I could get through the door fast enough should he punch Dr. Crane's lights out.

Without warning Demitri lashes out at the doctor, placing a solid backhand across Crane's face. Its veracity echoes throughout the hall. I gasp and side step in anticipation, ready to bolt. Crane stumbles for a moment then catches his balance. I notice that Crane takes an especially long time before he stands back to full height. Then I understood why. The face of a Scarecrow replaces the young complexion of my doctor. A terrifying stitched grin descends upon Demitri. I step in reverse until my back hits the wall, I slide to the ground.

'_I can't fucking take anymore!'_

Demitri's eyes widen and he yelps as a white, powdery substance clouds around his face. He coughs then screams as he violently collapses to the floor. "No! NO! Get 'em off me! No! Let me go! Let me GO!" Crane reaches for him by the ankle and drags him out of my cell. Demitri convulses on the floor, writhing in fear, lashing at himself, digging dirty nails into his face. I stand back up, horrified. Scarecrow's mask is down cast, observing the wriggling man before him. I watch Scarecrow clench and unclench his fists.

I take the opportunity. I bolt immediately through the door, pushing past the Scarecrow as he tries to grab me at the last moment. I shriek as his hand grazes my waist but I rush past him, running with all my might. I hear him curse behind me. A faint dragging sound itches its way to my ears just before I slip on a puddle and crash to the floor. I slide sideways and hit shoulder first into the door of another cell, a startled cry from inside then fades into incoherent mumbling. I hear my cell door shut as footsteps fast approach me. I struggle to get up, hands pushing off of the moist cement floor, bare feet tapping against the floor in trepidation to lounge forward. I run.

"Kyra, you stop!" I hear Scarecrow boom behind me.

I gasp in shock for he sounds much closer. I turn and head for the stairs, anywhere away from that creature following me.

"Don't do it, Kyra!" He roars behind me.

I fly up the steps, hands screeching against the railing. I burst through the door and flee down the hall, quickly noting through a nearby window that it is nighttime. _'No wonder the asylum feels so empty…'_ For I half expect to run into an orderly or another doctor. Then a door catches my attention and I rush to it and fumbled with the handle. Locked!

'_Fuck!'_

I wheel around upon hearing footsteps rushing up the stairs. Breathing hard through my nose my head darts around, searching for a place to hide, escape would come later. I have to first put some space between me and the Scarecrow. Then the men's lavatory caught my attention, I hurriedly dash to it. Cracking the door open I find it empty; I rush inside and take shelter in one of the stalls. I lock the door and sit on the toilet's tank. The back of my hand placed onto my mouth I try to slow my breathing and quiet myself. I hear footsteps stop in the hallway. He is deciding which way to go.

I feel trapped. I look around the stall's confines then I notice a vent on the wall two stalls down from me. I breathe a quiet sigh of revelation and hope. I dismount the tank quietly and slide to the ground and crawl underneath until I am in the stall with the vent. I lock the door and stand on the tank, reaching for the vent. I struggle with the rusty screws, breaking my nails as I do so. The bathroom door bursts open as I instinctively crouch down out of sight. I can hear my heart in my head overpower the quiet footsteps of the Scarecrow. I am royally fucked and I know it. I am in the farthest stall from the door, a long sprint to freedom.

"I know you're in here Kyra. You had better not make me come find you." He threatens as I hear him kick open the first stall door. I barely stifle a shocked gasp.

'_What am I going to do?'_

A crash resounds in the small restroom as a second door is kicked. My heart leaps in panic with every kick. Quietly I reach over and unlock my stall door, waiting. I hear him kick the third door, its boom is dull, and it is the locked one.

"There you are…" He concludes as there is a moment of silence and I am sure he is peering through the crack in the door.

I dive through the stall door, it slams against the nearby wall and I leap into motion, momentarily airborne just before my feet hit the floor. Shocked, Scarecrow whips around and fumes at me. I am already to the door as I thrust it open and cross its threshold. I hear his enraged growl as he lounges for the door. I had anticipated this for I am waiting on other side and kick the door outward as he approaches. It hits his body solidly.

The Scarecrow yelps in pain.

I pant. "You scream for me, bastard!" I yell at him just before I turn around the run. A firm hand grasps my shoulder and yanks me inside the bathroom. I swung and my fist collides with the side of his face. I scratch at the mask, trying to go for those stunning blue eyes. He grabs me by the hair and flings me to the floor. I skid across the tiled surface, every grout scraping my skin. My back then hits the wall. I wonder how I had not broken any bones during the duration of my stay here at Arkham.

"Foolish, foolish girl!" He growls as he stands before me. My head made a small thud as I leaned it against the wall and half close my eyes. I am suddenly very tired and I exhale loudly. He notices this and takes off that abhorred mask, setting it on the countertop. He then observes the damage I had inflicted upon him. His nose is bloody, it does not look broken, and his bottom lip is busted in the corner. None of it looked too bad. Yet I revel at the small accomplishment.

Crane looks over at me with nothing less than seething malice. I lie here, almost indifferent.

"What should I do with you?" He questions, moving away from the sink and a step closer to me.

'_Surprise me.'_

I look down to avoid his eyes. Firm hands grasp me by my front and pull me up. He then backs me up against the wall.

He brushes the side of my face, my bruises now sallow and dully aching. I wince but don't move. What would he do if his power didn't affect me? What _could_ he do then? Would he ignore me? Would he see past it and force me to be affected?

"Whatever you do...it's just my body." I bite my bottom lip to keep my chin from quivering. Those bright eyes darken, he tilts his head so that shadows carve along the ridges of his features and I find him frighteningly beautiful.

"But you see Kyra; it isn't your body that I want." He hisses into my ear.

My mouth opens in a silent, shocked realization and once again my gaze is downcast.

"Know that I will reach your mind." Crane places his hands on either side of my face as he leans closer. "And I will break it."

My hands are placed in front of me, inches from Crane's chest in a bleak show of protest yet refusing to make contact with him. I look up pensively.

"You saved me from him, why would you then do this to me?"

'_Seriously though, what is wrong with this man?'_

"I never said I was going to do anything…"

"No…you implied it." I counter. "What's wrong with you?"

He stares at me as if considering my question. Then he rushes his mouth towards mine, teeth bared, and then stops mere centimeters from my lips. Crane closes his mouth and grimly scowls at me when I didn't shrink away from him. The looks he gives me is a worse alternative to the mask.

"Not afraid?" He questions dangerously.

I turn my head and look away. I don't have to answer him.

His hand grasps my jowl in regard to my silence.

"You had better answer me."

I flick my eyes down and suck in my bottom lip.

'_But not today…'_

My legs feel weak and I slowly let myself slide to the floor, or rather he allows me to slide to the floor. I stare at his knees as he hovers above me. I take in a deep breath then look up at him. I give him my quiet answer and probable death sentence.

"But not today…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright, things get a little rougher, setting the stage for the next chapter which will be quite graphic.**

**Hope everyone enjoys. Please let me know either way. **

**Thank you all for your encouragement and loyalty.**

**If I could send you all gifts, I would.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 13**

Crane's eyes flicker like blue venom as he examines me with in dark intrigue. Should I really expect anything else? He straightens the lapels of his costly suit and inhales sharply.

'_Ah, my ever formal doctor...'_

"As you wish…"

Crane hoists me up by the back of my shirt and drags me out of the bathroom, his mask in the other hand. Roughly he leads me to the nearest elevator and thrusts me inside. My back slams against the wall along with the metal railing. He turns the key, the doors close, and we descend. I cower into a far corner to avoid him touching me. Silently, I wonder exactly where you must hit to effectively crush a man's trachea. Crane seems to sense this for he moves in on me.

"There's something I want you to see Kyra. I think it will shift things into perspective for you." Crane props both hands on either side of me as he pins me with those eyes. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Once again he hauls me to a room where I'm thrown to the floor. With one final glance he exits in silence. Quickly, I gage my surroundings to note I am someplace that resembles an interrogation room. Yet, I know not its actual purpose.

'_I don't want to know.' _

One wall consists entirely of double sided Plexiglas, permitting me to see into the nearby room. I hear the door open from that room as a bound figure stumble inside. The weak form crumples to the floor instantly and doesn't attempt to get up. I take a cautious step toward the glass. The Scarecrow steps inside. I startle but hold my ground. Scarecrow grabs the figure by the hair to leans in close. It is then I recognize the young man's face. Gasping I rush toward the glass.

'_My brother, the Scarecrow has my brother!'_

I pound on the glass with my shoulder. I know what would inevitably come next.

"No Crane! Let him go! Let him go you son of a bitch!" I pound with all my might, until my shoulder aches. A white substance clouds the air around the two figures. The white smoke billows and rolls like the extinguishing of a fire. My brother folds into the fetal position, unable to use his bound arms to clutch his chest. I know his heart is burning. I have felt that pain before. He begins to roll on the floor screaming in agonizing terror and pain. I didn't know a human could produce that pitch, such horrible excruciating sounds. I wish desperately my hands were free to cover my ears. I couldn't bear to see nor hear my brother like this.

And he would never know that he wasn't alone.

His convulsions grow worse and I can tell that it isn't just from the hallucinations. My brother's eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins to vomit. The gas is giving him seizures. I slam my shoulder harder then send an array of kicks upon the surface until I'm sure I made it quake.

"Help him! Crane, it's going to kill him! Stop it! Make it stop!"

With wide eyes I watch my brother's final convulsions for a solid few minutes. Then his body goes lax. Crane stands over him for a few moments then nudges my brother with his foot before taking off his mask. I watch him crouch down and check for a pulse. He then turns in my direction and calmly gazes through the glass at me. He is astonishingly accurate as to where I'm standing. Seething with fury and mortification I collapse completely against the glass, gazing at my brother's dead form. His eyes are open and wide, his mouth twisted, caught in mid-scream. All around him faint white powder glimmered like ground crystals. This is the work of my doctor. This is the craft he had honed. Surely, my fate will be no different than my brother's. I glance at Crane whose expression is elated as he exits the room.

Slowly I slide down to the floor sobbing, my body shaking wildly against the glass. I try but I'm unable to push back the scenario I had just witnessed. It won't stop replaying in my mind.

'_Please stop…' _

My brother is gone, gone.

"No…"

I will not take my eyes from the dead form of my brother. Desperately I plead audibly for him to move, twitch a finger, to see the slight rise and fall of his chest…a flutter of his thick lashes. Anything! Some sign of hope. The door to my current room clicks then opens as the unmasked Doctor Crane steps inside. Inside my straightjacket my fists are balled so tight I feel a slight warm liquid creep underneath my fingernails. I tighten the back of my teeth until they grind. I want to kill him. I am a myriad of emotions, anger, hate, despair; all cloud my mind but strike my every nerve. I am ready to do battle, bound or not I want his screams.

And I know it won't serve me, not yet.

I won't hold back my tears, my tongue, but I will temporarily hold back my actions for I will put them to better use at a later time.

"No screams? No comments? No attempts to avenge your dead brother? Perhaps you are more cowardly than I had thought." I hear him stealthily approach with every provocation until he's crouching in front of me. I sit with the side of my head against the wall. I feel angry and almost broken, almost.

"Or is it you're scheming in there?" He places a cold hand on the side of my face.

'_When do you finish me?'_

I suck in weakly; my face still turned away. I snap it away from him even as my head strikes against the wall.

'_What is it you're waiting for?'_

His eyes gleam in a way I have not seen before. Bruised lips curl at the corners for reasons I do not know.

"Kyra, you are all alone. I'm all you have."

'_Then I guess I'm really not alone.'_

I look up.

"No, you're not."

"Pardon?"

"You're nothing."

That cold hand inches its way around the back of my head, digging into my scalp as he pulls me forward.

"Well then, let's see just how much nothing affects you."

Without warning Crane snakes a possessive kiss over my lips. It is deep and aggressive, stealing the breath from my lungs. The cold hot of his lips stings as if laced with poison as they burn upon my own. I've never felt such violent passion from such a simple act. I've always been chaste throughout my adolescent years, saving my virtue and kissing only but a rare few. Their kisses pale in comparison to the fervent lust I taste now.

I try to pull away yet he presses harder, smothering me with his toxic kiss. His right hand constricts around the back of my neck. The heat from his grip sears me. Crane's other hand grips tightly onto the jacket straps at my side to keep me firmly in place. I fight hard for room, pushing weakly against his lanky frame.

I manage some space.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The devil grins back at me.

"Affecting you…"


	14. Chapter 14

**I realize I am very bad at this whole delivering chapters at a decent rate thing. I will try to improve as a New Year resolution. Mea culpa!**

**Please pardon my chronic tardiness. It has been a constant problem since…well, since I've ever had to be somewhere on time. Do you think they have a pill for this? Or does it come in the form of a metaphoric fire lit underneath my ass?**

**Anyway, I want you all to know I greatly appreciate your kind and supportive reviews/messages. I promise I will respond to every one of them once I have a chance. **

**I hope everyone likes this very dark chapter. It's intense (I hope) and for those that are underage and or very sensitive, rape and such in this one, ye be warned!**

**Thank you all so much for taking the time to read my story. I am in your debt.**

**-neosavvy**

**Chapter 13**

"You fear having no control?" Crane wrenches me, his fingertips touching each other around the circumference of my now frail arms.

"What I still want to know is..." He reaches for the straps of my straight-jacket. "…how much do I frighten you?"

My heart leaps, my stomach lurches.

"…And how long until it doesn't…how will you react to me from now on…?"

"You…you're so sick. You're so hopelessly sick…"

"That my dear Kyra, is all a matter of perspective. Who am I to fight my true nature? Would that not be considered 'sick'?"

I shake my head.

"You're all wrong."

He breathes in then out, biting gently the corner of his lip in contemplation as his eyes ignite in front of me.

"Still haven't learned."

I meet his eyes.

"I've learned quite a lot."

I hardly notice the soft unbuckling of my straightjacket until he begins to lift it over my head. He tosses it aside.

"What…?" I whisper.

"Hush." He commands as he slides a strong hand under my shirt.

'_No…'_

"Please no…"

His hand cradles my rib cage as he deftly sweeps me onto my back, cupping my head lest it should collide with the floor. He is on top of me in an instant.

"You're no better than Demitri." I whisper.

Crane grabs a handful of my hair and hisses into my face, jerking my head to the side.

"I ensure you than I am far better than he is. You'd be wise to say no more."

I place both feet firmly onto the floor and prepare my weakened muscles. This is my only chance to dislodge him. I thrust my pelvis upward and Crane is thrown upward into my fist. The small blow shifts him to the side as I roll out from underneath him. I rush to my feet but am pulled down immediately. A terrible growl resonates from behind me as my ankle is caught, slamming me belly first onto the floor.

I strain to break his clasp on my ankle, clawing at his hands like a trapped animal.

"No…no!" I scrape at the floor as I feel his hand grab me by the back of my shirt, pulling me backward. His steel grip grinds into my boney leg as he flips me onto my back once again. I twist in attempt to turn back over but he crawls on top of me.

"Please Doctor Crane, please don't do it, you don't have to, please…"

I begin to sob as he pushes my arms outstretched and against the floor. I flex against him yet his lean weight is crushing upon me.

"Don't…please…stop!" My voice heightens then creaks to a squeak at the last word.

Crane breathes one final breath as his seals my arms with one final push downward, inhibiting me completely. He is sitting practically on my chest due to my previous stunt.

"I was originally going to do this differently but as usual you've given me no other option."

"You've plenty of options!" I scream at him. "Please… don't hurt me…not anymore...you've done enough."

"That is why you are here!" He shouts at me, daring to release just a fraction of his rage.

"Doctor Crane I'm…" I wrack with sobs, tears evacuating hastily in quick panic.

"You're what? Afraid?" His voice thickens to an even richer, darker tone.

I lean my head to the side in defeat as well as the incorrectness of his response in a final attempt to rid him from my view.

He sits back slightly, hungrily attentive in genuine intrigue. I watch him take a moment to understand my esoteric message. His mouth parts slightly, his eyes flame, then it all darkens upon his reckoning.

Crane snickers at me.

"I see." His slight shock twists into abundant malice, a terrible, dark smirk across his beautiful face.

"You had better hold onto something then."

He dives down, molesting my lips with his own. After long, few moments he sits upright and removes my pants. A cold rush sends shivers down my legs; the floor is untouchably cold against my bare abdomen. I break out into a ferocious ripple of goose bumps. I hear him remove his own. He slides my arms to my sides and holds them down. I feel him part my legs with his knees, keeping one in-between just in case. He looks at me one final time.

Tears flee as I close my eyes.

"You won't find answers." My voice is minute.

'_He doesn't have my mind. He doesn't have my mind. It's only my body…only _my_ body.'_

"You look at me." Ice, his voice is pure ice.

I dare to open them. When I do I see no fantastically fashioned creature before me. I see pure, undiluted evil intentions of a wicked man. Surely this is the true face that evil bares. No masks, no theatrical elements to dramatize that which is unseen. Evil is ordinary. It can be beautiful; it can seem kind, feel secure, but underneath the veneer, once revealed by action, is the thick, unmistakable face of evil. And it is captivating. And as so, it captivates and devours.

Mine has been a slow consumption, a long, savoring chew of everything that I am. Portions spooned here and there upon desire, some saved for later devouring. Should he choose to swallow me, then he will choke on me.

But it will be unexpected.

'_I will be unexpected.'_

Violently he pushes into me.

I cry out in pain as he rips through me.

'_Did he just set me on fire?'_

The freeze beneath told me otherwise.

"Please stop! Please! You're hurting me!"

I could not halt my frantic, intrinsic responsive need for him to stop the pain. I squirm in great fervor, in hapless futility I struggle against this man.

A wild burning surges its electric pain throughout my body as my legs begin to numb. I feel dizzy and on the verge of vomiting. He is too rough with me. I try to scoot upward, anything to soften his thrusts. Crane anticipates this and so tightens his grip on my arms.

"You stop." He commands forcefully.

"You stop!" I shout back at him but am immediately stunned silent by a mind-numbing wave that signified another too-hard thrust.

Surge after brutal surge he rapes me, searching deeper with every movement, lounging into me with unrestrained force.

'_I'm ruined!'_

Even more terrifyingly, I feel my body start to respond.

'_No! No fucking way!'_

Again, I fight to break free, struggling to move my arms against his, forehead stretching to collide with his nose. The heels of my feet chisel against the ice cold floor, burning my skin with frozen bite.

"I told you to stop!" Crane raises a threatening tone.

He fluidly flips me onto my back, pulling tight my right arm behind me. He looms over my back and fervently thrusts back into me. I cry out once again. Crane presses the side of my face completely against the floor, violating me with all the anger he had previously repressed. He is making me feel it now. I close my eyes and imagine I'm elsewhere. There is sunlight there, warm, gentle sunlight. Another too deep thrust and pain swallows me, my mouth open in silent scream. I pretend I just leapt into the cool, crisp ocean of my beautiful mindscapes.

I will not drown in the water there.

Then it all stops as I feel him pour his toxin into me. Crane clutches his hands possessively onto my sides, his fingertips almost touching around my small waist. He pulls me further into him as it takes all I have not to pass out. Crane pauses for a moment as I hear him collect himself. His hands release my now bruised sides and flatten on the floor on either side of me. I watch the angry heat fight the coolness of the tile in a spill of murky condensation. A dark shadow overhead warns of his approaching face. Crane leans close to my ear; his plush lips brush my fine skin.

"I've marked you Kyra. You are mine now. I have forever taken something away from you."

I suck in my quivering sobs.

"You're body is a tool I'm using against you."

Crane removes himself and again deftly flips me onto my back.

"Time to work on that mind of yours…"

He holds both my arms at the wrists and wrenching them downward and into my chest.

"Now…"

He takes one hand and slides it near my inner thigh.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" That all too rich voice now a deadly hiss.

'_You've done enough…'_

"Let's see how you respond." Crane murmurs as he slips his murderous fingers into me.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Immediately, I am brought back to my cell. As if nothing had ever happened. This is how madness works. Every cog in this infernal machine must continue its perpetual cycle; never breaking the well oiled circadian rhythm. It is designed for this very purpose. Practiced and polished throughout years, it shines from success, flicking a wink to those who must now lower their heads in quiet defeat.

This is how it must feel to be reintegrated into normal life after having served in some atrocious war. Mentally and emotionally you're captured and raped into nightmarish haze of altered reality as no one dares to stop their world to consider yours.

He is dirt in the miniscule crevices of my skin. His bile is a thick, devastating clot, choking me in all those dark, hidden…suspended places. I can not cleanse myself of his stain, this suffocating residue that might snuff the tender frays of my will, bending my being until it breaks. Yet, deep inside me another beast is metastasizing into anatomic proportions, pacing tempestuously behind ivory bars. It is a sick growth but one that might save me…so, I feed it.

My nerves are shattered by this unsettling creature that is clawing and raging to free itself by inflicting much validated vengeance.

'_Aren't starved, frightened, and corned creatures the most unpredictable…the most dangerous? Aren't they are forced to be reckoned with?'_

I gently lift myself to a sitting position. A dull ache pulsates through my abdomen.

I shift, every position creating pangs of resistance, not faltering to bring forth a wince or erupt a grunt of pain.

'_But I am very small.'_

His world is built high. His reputation and stigma are of equal and immeasurable countenance. How does one peon refute against an empire? Which stone must be turned in order to crumble such an expertly crafted kingdom? How can I dislodge this maleficent man?

Too tired and sore to actually devise a plan I slump into a heap of sore flesh upon the cold stones of my prison. The chilled cement soothes my angry bruises. I can only wait for that dreadful metallic hiccup to belch out the doctor from its dangerous throat.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm a horrible updater. I know I can only (hopefully) make it up to my dear readers by posting two chapters. Life is relentless, work is ruthless. Alright, I must confess. My story has taken an entirely different route. I do hope everyone enjoys. Please, do let me know how you feel but tread softly. Be sure to keep a look out…**

**Chapter 15**

A shot of terror bolts through me as I'm electrocuted awake by the ground's frightened tremor. Its shrugs involuntarily to dislodge the mounting fear. The stone wall sweats feverishly as the ceiling shudders overhead. I rise slowly. A hollow boom swells around the hall, through the gaped bars and into my cell. The sound is immense, deafening were it not muffled by the level above.

A storm?

Another vociferous clamor then fizzle of dying static confirms my suspicion. Unless a war is waging above me there's no other logical explanation I could conjure.

"He really should turn the T.V. down." I mumble as I stretch onto my tip-toes to observe through the bars, mouth parted and breath ragged.

A menagerie of underground creatures scamper their way across the dry spots on the cement. Few are landlocked but most caught in the deep pools. It leaves them batting their soaked wings and buzzing near silent pleas for help. I watch as a flying beetle whirls upward, weighted by wet wings. It dives down, hitting solidly onto the bottom of the puddle. It is a snapping sound of exoskeleton being crushed. It shoots upward again, delirious from the impact then dives into the pool once more. Its dying wing beats tread the surface like a failing motor trying desperately to start.

I listen to the fading.

Moths burn themselves on the flickering light bulbs, scorching in defiant sizzle, they burn. A line of their dried corpses splatters the fluorescent tubes like thrown paint. The hall is alive with retreating creatures. I can hear them all. All their legs, all their wings, the movement of their hard skin. The itching of their spiked feet cackling as they scratch and scrape across the ground. I can hear their tormented moans…that plaintive whine of such a small life…of such a stolen life.

I wish I were them.

They can hide.

"At least you can hide."

I slam my fist against the steel.

"At least you can fucking hide!" I scream.

"Burn, you bastards, fucking burn! Let freedom fucking drown you!" I pause to hammer the air with a forceful downward blow.

"FUCK!"

My own desperation terrifies me.

Movement around my ankles. I look down, rats. Many of them. Beads of water hang from their whiskers as they haunch their damp backs. I do nothing. They don't bother me. I am not considered much more than a heat source. Furry mounds sit below me, drying saturated faces with dirty claws.

There is a flood.

I glance at their homes in the wall which is undoubtedly inundated with water.

"Strange. Never thought it would be drowning."

My fingers clutch the bars.

"Not by water anyway.."

I let go and rest my head below the bars. A tune somberly drifts toward my direction. Its tone deep and not unlike a machine gun's rasp. The inside hollow of his cell makes it sound closer. No joy nor pleasure can be extracted from his melody. A voice of pure boredom. Something burns impatiently behind it.

"I'm sing-ing in the rain…just sing-ing in the rain…"

My head perks.

"…what a glor-i-ous feel-ing…!"

Wetness on my arm. I look up. Tiny drops of water slip through the ceiling's crevices. Dotting my arms, one landing in my eye.

I blink rapidly and start to laugh, loudly. I hear its echo filter into the hall. I rush the door, singing, my left eye batting fervently.

"I'm hap-py again! I'm laugh-ing at clouds! So dark above…"

I stop at the those words.

"Lovely voice." The voice is strangely quirky. Hitting certain syllables with unsuspected pitch then bringing a deep and menacing undertone, a true tenor.

"You're a veritable Gene Kelly." I retort.

His laughs disingenuously, enunciating each 'ha' with mechanically painful mock.

I slide to a sitting position, momentarily scaring the rats, who soon scamper back to curl around my freezing feet.

"How…how's the established order treating you, mm?" His voice is brass crackling, the violent embers bashing themselves vicariously against his brazen.

I pause to think.

'_Much kinder than you, my friend.'_

"I tried to push for game night…I don't think we'll get it."

I stand back up to see who I'm communicating with.

He laugh is frantically high and hysterical. The rushed maniacal outbursts of a man who can not amuse the situation fast enough. I watch his scars work their folds. Suddenly I suspect becoming a target. Silently I revel at his fervor.

'_I dare you to test your will against mine…'_

"Tell me, is it…is it that Crane is as small as the rest of 'em? Ah, mm?" I watch him nod his head and scrunch his scars into a giant red clot. I follow the glint of his yellow teeth, a sick, hardened ichor.

A shot of pain soars through me, I feel my cheeks burn.

"In comparison to your budding sanity?"

"Ah, ah, ah." He clicks disapproval at me with a paint grimed hand.

The venomous voice hisses, drawling it out in deep contemplation. I wonder if just possibly, there is a man more frightening than my dear Doctor.

He sounds closer now.

I listen to him clear his throat, more so to catch my attention.

His head cocks to the side. I catch a fleeting shimmering of a red tongue moisten a plump bottom lip. The action makes me wet my own in doubtful curiosity.

"You see, a guy like Crane needs…a certain type of handling…ah, you don't look...built for the job." His hands cringe reflexively, as if urging his next thought.

"I just may surprise you." I spit.

Transfixed as I watch him smack his swollen lips as he paces his cell, tonguing the inside of his paunch scars. I admire the swift awkwardness of his gait, accentuated by his high, square shoulders. It is a quick, physical reflection of his rapid thoughts which seemingly ignites the space between us.

Despite his unmistakable scars and haphazardly painted face, I can not avert my gaze from his eyes. Where his eyes should be. I look for irises, but can only focus on the whites. They are dashes upon two bottomless ink blots. They radiate ghoulish quality, a milky apparition as they appear to make the background retreat.

Disgruntled, guttural sounds chill my spine as another loud boom resonates from above.

"You see, a guy like me…"


	17. Chapter 17

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**Chapter 16**

Water pools into my cell as the unrelenting storm rages outside. I am pacing now, my hair and body now damp from the moisture dripping from the ceiling. The rats have formed a line against the opposite wall of their homes.

I gasp as another loud boom jars my teeth. It is followed by a low, guttural chuckle from the hallway.

I stomp towards the bars.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT-UP!" I scream.

"Why does everyone in this God-forsaken city play DRESS UP?" I shout as I pull my hair and kick the door.

"Ow…" I exasperate while looking up.

The water in my cell is slowly creeping closer, invading what small space I already have. I sit down and sigh as I stretch my legs out as the water gently laps the heels of my feet.

A pit forms in my stomach as I curl my lips in sardonic glee. I press my face against the bars of my window and shout.

"Your make-up isn't running is it?"

Several sloshing footsteps come into earshot as I hum to myself.

"Time for therapy." I whisper.

The footsteps stop at The Joker's cell. I hear Doctor Crane smoothly call orders to his four men.

"I want him out." Crane is curt.

I watch as the two orderlies escort The Joker down the hallway.

A sting of disappointment jabs me.

Crane glances in my direction.

Something in his eyes…

He approaches my cell door. Two orderlies flank him.

Crane steps closer to the bars of my cell. He peers in at the water, now pooling half-way up my feet. His eyes flick back to my shivering form.

"Feeling well?" He asks.

"Let down, actually."

"Oh?" His head cocks to the side, dark bangs bob ever so slightly as if they too, were curious.

I sit down in front of the door so he can't see me. The bottoms of my sweats now soaked as the loose cotton gulps the murky water.

My cell door hiccups then burps out Crane and his orderlies.

"Aw, it's the pantywaist."

"Is that what you call me?" He asks.

I give a loose smile.

Crane crouches down in front of me. I watch as the water dares to touch expensive shoes.

"Progress." He whispers.

I backhand water it into his face.

He closes his eyes and purses his thick lips as the water shimmers his face, dotting his glasses like pearls. His eyes open and I can't help but avert my eyes. I look down, my gaze following the swaying water around me.

He smiles at me.

"Leave." Crane orders his men.

They slosh and crush skeletons beneath their feet.

I reflect the notion of a watery grave.

Touch.

Reality.

Warm hands are placed on either side of my face. His fingertips dry ice.

I shiver and suppress the urge to vomit.

"Why do you fight me?" He demands.

"Subordination is overrated."

The dripping moisture from the ceiling is loud now when it drops onto the water. It's hollow echo makes the cell feel even more suffocative. I imagine white knuckles tapping against an empty plank. Slick and haughty they question me with their melodic accusations. I watch the reflections in the water, watch it skim over Crane's face. Watch it flicker.

"Careful." He shakes me gently with warning.

"Your threats have already reached capacity." I try to shrug him off.

"Not so." He is calm as he eagerly strokes the sides of my face.

"You fascinate me." He responds.

It is so sudden.

I scrunch my brows.

Is this perhaps, a glimmer of vulnerability?

My hope blooms.

"You disgust me." I am inundated with shivers.

"Cold?" Crane asks.

"Nah, It's fuckin' warm in here."

He squeezes the back of my neck. "Don't lie."

"You going to make a move or is this death-by-pressing?" I spit.

The reflections flicker then dim.

"I think you need this." A powder hits my face and immediately I am sent writhing. I roll away from Crane's grasp. I see his figure standing over me and in my peripheral, he is laughing. I am crying. Hysterically grabbing my face and ripping at my clothes. I'm so cold.

"Cold is gone! No cold…gone! Oh, God, it's gone!" I gasp with the full energy of my body. " My lungs, I CAN'T FEEL THEM!" I scream and choke on water. Splashing wildly until I corner myself into the wall. I can't feel, I can't feel, I can't feel…"

I look up at Crane.

"Why…?" I see Scarecrow. I leap at him. "MAKE-ME-FEEL…!" I scream.

A firm hand covers my face and pushes me hard as to sit me down. I hit with a splash, elbows bruised and throbbing deep into the marrow.

"QUIET!" The voice booms.

"…joker…" I whisper dangerously.

The figure stands directly over me.

"What did you say?" I'm hoisted upwards.

" WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU JUST SAY?" He booms. I shake at his volume.

"I AM SCARECROW!" A hand slaps me hard across the face, fracturing my jaw.

Strong hands wrap around my throat and squeeze as to kill me. My lungs begin to burn.

I writhe and croak.

"I CAN FEEL THEM!" I put my hands over his and help him squeeze. His hands retract immediately. I hear him scream in frustration as he moves away from me. I watch my cell rotate as he thrashes and screams before me.

I cock my head to the side as I carefully dissect the situation in a cloud of burning stupor.

"Feel? FEEL? I WILL MAKE YOU FEEL!" He booms as he pulls me up and slams me against the wall. My body tense I hear my arm crack as I hit the rough surface.

Allowing no room for recovery the Scarecrow growls ferociously and clutches the front of my shirt, shaking me.

"I-AM-SCARECROW! SAY IT! SAY IT!" He's lost complete control.

"NO!" I scream back!

"You will!" He grumbles as I'm hit with another spray of toxin.

I thrash wildly underneath him. My world is gone. My vision a whirl, I can't see anything. My hearing is muffled as I don't really understand what's going on. All I know is that Scarecrow is losing his grip on me. My mind is gone but it is not in _his_ possession.

That is all that matters to me.

"SAY IT!" He roars.

I shake my head.

I feel him reach for my waist.

I pull his hands closer only to feel him withdrawal. I try to pull him back, my wrists popping and crackling. He pushes me down, my ears drone underneath the water.

"No." He murmurs then quickly flips me onto my stomach. I catch a mouthful of water. I start choking and gasping for air. He holds me under for a good thirty seconds. He brings my head back up and I gasp with everything that I have and choke.

"Progress." I squeak between coughs.

"SHUT UP!" He bellows and holds me under again…only longer. He brings me back up.

"SAY IT!"

Dunk.

"NOW!"

"Crane."

He stops.

My chest aches with each laboring heartbeat. He places a hand over my chest and stares at me.

"I will not save you this time." He is calm again.

I kiss his hand.

"NOW SAY IT!" His eyes black, unrecognizable. I have pulled the devil from him. I close my eyes. A blow to the side of my head, they rock open. I feel my face instantly bruise. My heart burns.

"I NEED YOU TO SAY IT!" He voice cracks as he rips off the mask. My heart breaks.

Need.

I am winning.

I continue to choke on water.

It tastes metallic…blood.

He pulls me up and smothers me. His tears warm on my face.

I can't speak, too much pressure rushing to my throat. I can't feel my arms.

"Why won't you say it?" He cries as he strokes my stringy wet hair, burying his face into the side of my neck.

My breaths are short and ragged. My heart swells with something else now…realization. I convulse.

I am dying.

Crane's cries break between hysteric sobs as he roughly combs the back of my head.

"Say it, please…I'm begging…" His voice escapes.

I feel it, that spark. I feel something die.

I look into his eyes. They are horrified as I sputter and choke on clots of my own blood. I smile and spurt.

"I owe you nothing."

Darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

**When I said this story is taking a different route than I had previously planned. I meant it. After my sixth time watching The Dark Knight in theatre, I was profoundly moved by Heath's brilliant performance and thought, 'hey, I think Joker and Kyra need to meet.' **

***blushes***

**Then, I recalled his quote, 'I believe what doesn't kill you, simply makes you stranger.'**

**Hey, now that's a great concept.**

**Plus, I've kind of bonded with Kyra and my fingers just won't type the words to off her. So…hopefully this new transition will be regarded well. Please let me know you're opinions on this. If it seems like it doesn't fit and will ruin previous hard work then I may finagle with the mass and scratch it. **

**But rarely do I do that…**

***grin***

**Oh, and no this will not be another Joker/OC smutty "romance" story.**

**C'mon, have more faith in me than that.**

**Chapter 17**

A crushing jolt sends my body convulsing to life in a virulent splay of thrashing and heaving. My frantic attempts to regain breathing pitted against violent coughs and congesting clots of congealed blood. I turn over and attempt to vomit. Pushing until my abs burn and arms begin to numb I wretch. Nothing. More intense, labored heaving and still nothing. I start to choke. My head burns and cheeks sting as I desperately try to create an airway. Panic ensues and I ram my fingers down my throat to feel a slick blot of something. I grasp it with shaking fingers and pull strands of dark red globule. I wretch and dispel the remaining gobs of coagulated blood. I watch it flail to the floor like a sea-creature as it jumps into murky depths. Dark and alien it alarms me to think that _that _came from my body.

Lungs burning in protest, I heave in a sigh of fresh, damp air.

I can do this.

Looking down I realize my cell flooded. I stand to find the brown water over my ankles. Had I not been lying on my back I would have drowned. I watch bits of rubble and foam float languidly upon the murky surface like thick scars trying to staunch the waters pulse.

I fall.

My cell door is left open and I presume Crane believes I'm dead. I am not so naïve as to believe he won't come back to discard any incriminating evidence. Light and shaking my body does not feel my own. My legs and arms have been reduced to little more than stilts. I lift myself to a deformed haunch and force my body to cooperate as I lurch out of my cell. Peering out the door I feel brash and displaced to cross the threshold of my own accord. This strikes me as such a profound and monumental sign that I exit with overindulgent enthusiasm. Splashing noisily, I grimace my way down the flooded corridor as I slip occasionally on the slimy cement bed.

I hear voices overhead. It is a corroborative discord of angry, frenetic tumult which sends a shiver upon me so severe I nearly fall over a second time. It is wrong. This is wrong. Something has happened. Crane would never allow anarchy in his asylum. The large pipes groan and cough overhead as if sick from disease. A secondary sound is a mad shuffling of feet overhead, a scattered clicking of haste.

It is all much too close.

A movement up ahead and immediately I dart to a darkened corner. I listen to the sloshing.

"I hear you." Is the strange voice.

'_Oh God, oh God…'_

My eyes dart in search of a weapon to find only a frigid, swaying sepia mirage…hypnotic. A light heaviness hints at my body wanting to collapse. My head dizzying, I lean against a cold stone wall for support. A throbbing ache clutches my chest and grips tight with vigorous agony. I could not manage a burst of energy anytime soon. Persuasion seems out of the question.

"Come here..." The voice is embarking annoyance.

My heart sickens and lurches as another thick lump forms within my throat. Panic swells as I dread ripping out another choking clot while trying to escape this madman.

"I…I don't have…a lot of time…" I focus on his pauses. How can the whine and bass of his voice so delicately harmonize in a single sentence? I hear him pass something back and forth in his hands, the slight tapping of a juggled object. The sloshing is now sporadic…he is skipping…and much closer now.

Blackness darkening I collapse into the welcoming filthy dregs.

"There we are…" His voice is low this time.

I look up at his impossibly large form. Shoulders broad and high, he appears to haunch as if winding for an attack.

He rushes me, so quickly I lose all sense of time and space. A wave of silent darkness passes over me as I begin to black out. Strong hands jerk me upward and I part from the water like a drenched blanket, making me feel heavier than I actually am. The close proximity of his pale face illuminates and shocks me alert. His energy is electricity shot through me and my full consciousness is his. A gloved hand burns hard friction against the side of my face, another is tangled in the mess of my wet hair. I can feel his heat through the mauve leather as he slips something cold and hard against the inside of my cheek.

He jerks my head downward and I feel the sly blade start to cut.

My eyes lock onto his and I can't avert. There is too much to process. So much intensity from this man and I just can't fathom.

'_Surely, this is god.'_

Weakly, I grip his fist and guide the blade out of my mouth. His wild eyes flame with curiosity.

I place the blade just below my jaw line. Involuntarily, my chin twitches. He examines me with dark eyes as I watch, not completely there. Angrily, I slap my hands over his wrists which I cannot feel through the thick, wool suit. They do not budge as I try shake them anxiously. Effortlessly, he fights my hold and stills my urging. Placing strong hands on either side of my face, the blade winks beside my left eye.

"You want to know how I got these scars? Hmm?" He nods his head as if to answer for me as he pulls my face closer.

"Tell me how you got the ones I can't see." I dismiss him. My fingers lax over expensive cuffs and my back painfully arched in accommodation to his height.

The Joker's head quirks to the side as he tongues the right side of his scars. Then he snaps his face towards me.

"Wrong answer! Try again!"

The voice is high yet full of bass, hysterical with amusement he pushes me away just before striking an angry blaze across my face. Instinct and gravity working against him, my fall eradicates his initial target as the flesh above my right eye is abused. Stunned into shock I cradle the right side of my face. Terrified fingers search the long, deep wound. It is all far too quick for me to react verbally. I blink several times to find that my eye had not been damaged. It stings but I can see. Puffing in confusion and shock I sit shaking with adrenaline and furious with insult.

The Joker jogs a few steps around me, passing the wet knife from hand to hand as he hums darkly.

"You know, you should really let me work on that face." He sweeps his head low as a predator might. Curling his fingers to gesture them cupping his own scars as an example.

"Just around the mouth…" He licks his own then fakes a quick advancement. His face wrinkles in annoyance when I don't immediately flinch.

"You want to hide, mm? I…am gunna give you a reason to…" With shocking speed he moves for me. I remain stationary as he practically hurls his body against mine. We collide against the nearby wall and again the blade is introduced. The Joker's breath is hot against my face and his energy pure fire…glistening eyes the dark coal that fuels it. I gasp not from shock, nor pain, nor fear…

… but awe.

He is miles above me.

I begin to cough, so violently he releases just to see what all the commotion is about, as I fall to my knees. Head cocked, he stands and watches with smacking lips. I continue to retch and choke on what feels like wet cotton lodged deep within my throat. Grimacing, I pull another giant clot from within my throat. I hear it release as if I were ripping fabric. I toss it aside and inhale intoxicating gasps of air. Tender cords rasp with each breath drawn as torn strings still cling and vibrate stubbornly. I place quivering fingers over my temple to catch my breath as frigid water hugs my thighs.

Indignant eyes scale the height of this man as I admire his awkward but deliberate posture. I fold my arms over my stomach to feel only bones. The metallic oil harasses my tongue and thickens my throat, urging me to curl and vomit.

Ungainly, I attempt to stand and examine his towering six-foot frame as I am dwarfed by those too-high, square shoulders. I tongue to corner of my lips in contemplation. His posture twitches questioningly as he squints his eyes and smacks his swollen cheeks at this action. I quirk my gaze as if telling him a deep secret and rasp.

"What…?" A guttural sound emits and I cough to clear the wreckage.

" …do you think Crane's screams sound like?" I finish.

"Be…" More coughing gargles my words. "…cause, between you and me…I'm a bit curious." I finish as I stroke the split skin over the right side of my face. I finger the tender folds to feel the bone underneath, like velvet. I wonder exactly what my scar will look like.

"Why don't we upset his little world…?" I step closer, careful when I deliver the word, 'we.' Deathly afraid he will turn on me in an instant and lop my head off. Although, I doubt he's a man who would make such a delightful act quick.

The Joker is quiet but his expressions, those animate mannerisms which draw me so are alive, vibrant, and pulsing with radiating thought. A flash of movement and immense pain follows deftly, violently and shakes the breath from me. My brain knows he is kicking me but it can't register the pain. I can hardly feel anything after the first wave of agony. It is all converged and I can only see the flash that is his foot. A man is gone, pure energy replaces and fills this human vessel. His fury beats me in a rush so mad I can taste the intensity that drives passion. Metallic, only sweeter and slightly acidic.

Overwhelming.

And I have a better understanding because of it.

I want to become this intensity.

I want to be this energy.

I listen to his groans and shrieking laughter as he pummels me. For the first time in Arkham I _let _myself lose my mind.

'_This _must_ be initiation…'_

"…and cut this scarecrow down." I sputter between another clot. Vocal cords tighten in response to the effects of this unfelt pain.

The energy pauses and I can breathe again.


End file.
